


secretly

by ndnickerson



Category: Nancy Drew - Carolyn Keene
Genre: Barebacking, Cunnilingus, Dancing, Established Relationship, F/M, Fondling, Future Fic, Goodbyes, Hand Jobs, Homecoming, Making Out, Menstrual Sex, Oral Sex, Reunion Sex, Reunions, Romance, Secret Relationship, Sex Toys, Sharing Pajamas, Sharing a Bed, Sleepy Sex, Slow Dancing, Tears, Vibrators, Woman on Top
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-10
Updated: 2018-01-25
Packaged: 2018-10-02 05:44:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 44,928
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10210844
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ndnickerson/pseuds/ndnickerson
Summary: Nancy has never been able to stay home for very long, but she's beginning to dream of a different life - with the man she loves.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [ashes](https://archiveofourown.org/works/10619907) by [ndnickerson](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ndnickerson/pseuds/ndnickerson). 



Nancy slotted the key into the lock, squaring her shoulders to disguise her trepidation, more from habit than anything else. The manicured shrubs lining the front of the house were blanketed in blue-white snow, and under the sound of the whistling wind, she could hear dogs barking a few blocks away.

She had seen the pictures, of course, but that had been eight months ago, and she had only been able to glance through before deleting the message. She'd had no sense of scale, of the layout of the house; besides, despite everything, it hadn't been her choice anyway. She remembered mustard-colored walls, scuffed baseboards, cheap cabinets.

The key had been cut just for her, and she had to jiggle it a bit to make the tumblers engage, the entire time mentally triple-checking herself in case she had misread the address, or the signs. But the lock clicked back and she pushed open the door, finding the light switch. The insistent chirping of the alarm panel beside the front door subsided as she hastily entered the memorized code, and the lights on the panel flashed to a sedate green.

Nancy gasped as she turned around, seeing the room for the first time. The overhead fixtures cast the room in warm, inviting light, despite the chill in the air. She had still been picturing those hideous walls and stained, worn carpet. The carpet was all gone, and the living room floor was warm hardwood. Oversized brown-leather couches and recliners were grouped around the television set and entertainment center. The walls had been painted a warm neutral taupe. A fully-decorated Christmas tree had been placed beside the front windows, although the lights were off now. Through a doorway, she could see the dining room; behind the loveseat, she saw steps leading to the upper story.

Nancy closed and bolted the door behind her, keeping her steps light even though she knew no one was home. Gone were the cheap, dated cabinets she had seen in the photos, or he had refinished them—and how long had that taken? She couldn't even imagine. The downstairs bathroom, clearly meant for guests, still sported a dated milky-jade tile, but he had updated the fixtures, and it looked almost quirkily nice.

When she reached the master bedroom, her steps became even slower, even quieter. His alarm clock was beside the bed, and she saw a basket of dirty clothes near the dresser. The bed had been spread with a quilt made with blocks of red, green, and white plaid; Christmas always had been his favorite holiday. On tiptoe she walked to the bathroom. His toothbrush and toothpaste, his razor, his deodorant and aftershave and cologne. His soap, his shampoo and conditioner and facewash in the shower stall.

She let out a breath she didn't know she had been holding. In her heart, she knew that she couldn't have blamed him at all, if he had found someone else, if someone new had begun sharing his life and his bed. But her heart would have been broken by it.

Nancy hadn't reset the alarm or turned off any of the lights as she explored the house. When the front door opened, she flinched, drawing a quiet, startled breath.

"Here, have a seat," she heard his voice.

"Thank you," a breathless feminine voice replied.

Nancy's heart sank. How cruel, for it to be like this—but oh, how she hoped she was wrong. Keeping her duffel bag on her shoulder, she crept quietly toward the cozy living room, staying just out of sight beyond the doorway.

"My friend Benny must have come over," he muttered. "Anyway, yeah—have a seat too. Do you want something to drink, something warm? I can make some hot chocolate."

"Yeah!" a boy's voice replied.

The fist in Nancy's stomach began to loosen some.

"You really don't have to do this. But thank you." The woman sighed. "That van has been a catastrophe. No wonder the guy gave me such a great deal on it."

"Martin, the guy I called to come get it? He's a good friend, and I know that if you're looking for something else, he can help you find a deal. On something that won't leave you stranded. Let me turn the heat on—and you're welcome to grab that blanket behind you," he called, as he walked into the kitchen and flipped on the lights. "This'll just take a couple of minutes."

"You have a really nice house," the woman called.

"Thanks," he replied. "I've put a lot of work into it—and I'm not done yet, but I hope I will be soon."

Nancy let the duffel bag gently slide to the floor with a muffled thump, then crossed her arms as she took slow, noiseless steps toward the kitchen doorway, careful to stay out of sight of the woman and two children in the living room.

He stood there, at the door of the pantry, hunting through it; she saw a gallon jug of milk and three mugs already set out beside it on the counter. With a quiet, triumphant cry he emerged from the pantry, a box of instant hot chocolate mix packets in his hand.

As soon as he turned, he saw her.

Nancy's eyes filled with tears, and she let her crossed arms drop to her sides. "Hey," she whispered, her lips turning up in a crooked smile.

Ned dropped the box of hot chocolate, staring at her like she might be a ghost, a vision brought to life from his sheer desire to see her. The cardboard struck the kitchen linoleum with a dull thwack. Then he crossed the room in long, rapid strides, a huge grin lighting up his face, and drew her into his arms, until her feet were no longer on the floor, holding her tight against him. Ned's hugs had always been the best ones she had ever experienced; she felt completely surrounded by love and safety and comfort. She wrapped her arms around him too, clinging to him, and a pair of tears slipped from her flooded eyes down her cheeks.

"Nan," he whispered. "Oh, baby, I've missed you so much."

"I've missed you too," she whispered, as he touched his forehead to hers, and she ran her fingers through his hair, over the nape of his neck. She could feel his heart beating. So often she had to do everything she could to forget this, to push it out of her mind, so the need for it wouldn't eat her alive. Now it all roared back, monstrous, made all the stronger by her months of denial and neglect, and it was as though her heart could only beat in proximity to his.

"How long?"

"Two weeks. I hope."

"Mmm." She knew he had to be disappointed; she was too. But at least it was two weeks. With a reluctant sigh, he gave her one last squeeze and lowered her back to the floor, but he didn't release her. "Then I'll just look at it as an incredible Christmas present."

She smiled, stroking his cheeks, memorizing the texture of his skin under her palms all over again. His handsome face and muscular body was as familiar to her as her own, sometimes even more so. "You've done some amazing work on the house."

He grinned, moving so he could look into her eyes. "You like it?"

She nodded. "It looks really great. I'm impressed, Nickerson."

"Good." He leaned down and gave her a brief, sweet kiss. "It was for you, babe. It's yours too. Do you want some hot chocolate?"

"Yeah," she admitted off a sigh, as he released her. "That actually sounds pretty great."

They kept glancing at each other, as they worked together to heat the milk and stir in the chocolate powder. She helped him carry the mugs into the living room.

The woman whose voice she had heard was perched at the edge of the recliner, clearly anxious. The stiff line of her back and shoulders relaxed slightly when she saw Nancy. The woman had clearly been desperate, to accept a ride from a stranger, but Chicago was bitterly cold and more snow was on the way. Seeing another woman was doing a lot to calm her fears.

"Nancy, this is Monica. Her van broke down about a mile away, and I called a tow truck for her, but it was too cold to wait out there. These are her little boys—"

"Xavier and Gabriel."

"X," the larger of the two boys told her proudly.

"You both have great names," she told them. "I'm glad to meet you. I just wish it had been under happier circumstances."

Monica nodded. "It's nice to meet you, too," she said politely. When Ned offered her a mug of hot chocolate, she reluctantly accepted it.

The boys had noticed Ned's game system and were excitedly asking him questions about which games he had, when his cell phone rang. The tow truck driver had arrived, and Monica hastily finished her hot chocolate and began fastening the coat she had never actually removed. By the time Ned had finished his conversation, she had the boys back in their coats, too.

Ned gave Nancy an apologetic look. "I'll be right back, unless you want to come with us," he said. "Martin will be able to take them home, if he can't fix the car tonight."

Nancy glanced between Monica and the two boys. "Would you like to eat dinner with us?" she suggested.

Monica immediately shook her head, drawing her coat tighter around her. "Oh, no, we couldn't," she said. "Thank you so much, but my mom is expecting us. I'll give her a call from the garage and let her know what's going on. Thank you, though."

Nancy nodded. "Well, I'm glad Ned could help," she said. "I'll see you when you get back, okay?"

Once Ned's taillights had vanished, Nancy closed the blinds with a sigh, then plugged in the tree lights. They twinkled from the branches, illuminating miniature candy canes and teddy bears, keepsake globes and porcelain ornaments Ned had collected as souvenirs on various trips. She stood there gazing at the tree as her hand stole up to the collar of her sweater. Slowly she drew a necklace from beneath the fabric, still spellbound by the tree; she parted the chain and let the circlet of gold fall into her palm. The band was slightly loose against the base of her left ring finger.

Officially, she and Ned were no longer in a relationship, and hadn't been in the past six years. Officially Nancy Drew was a single CIA operative specializing in long-term undercover missions, who had spent the majority of the past six years abroad. Officially Ned was her ex-boyfriend.

The minister who had finally agreed to marry them six years ago had been sworn to secrecy. No marriage license had been filed; they hadn't even applied for one. On paper, legally, they were exactly as they said they were. Two people who had loved each other, then been separated by life and work.

She had left the handwritten record of their marriage with Ned, signed by them both on the day they had spoken their vows to each other and exchanged their rings. The rules said she couldn't be legally married, and she wasn't. They weren't.

But they had been married in every other way. He was her husband, the husband she could never acknowledge or truly have. They had never shared a home or lived together, not really, only during their all-too-short honeymoon and brief visits she had been able to make. When she had been able to visit last year, it had been his apartment. It had never been theirs, but she had still thought of it fondly.

This... She looked around her. This place was a _home_. A place for a family.

She was more grateful than she could ever possibly say that Ned had agreed to their secret marriage, that even when she had told him she would understand if he couldn't go through with it, he had still wanted this. She knew he was lonely, though, just as she was. It was impossible to be married for two weeks of the year, sometimes less, and single for fifty more.

And she didn't want to wear her wedding band only behind the privacy of closed doors, when they were alone.

But that wasn't an option. When she had accepted her assignment, the separation should have ended them, should have closed this door. That they had even managed to carve out such a tiny place for themselves was both impressive and maddening.

He deserved more. They both did.

She was unsurprised to find a Christmas album in the sound system; she cued it up and left the volume low, afraid the television laugh track would be grating and intrusive. She took the emptied mugs to the kitchen, rinsed them out and left them on the counter beside the sink. The fireplace in the kitchen didn't look like it could hold a fire; Ned had stacked holly boughs and pinecones in it for a festive display. Or his mother had.

When she heard his car pull up again, it was impossible not to rush to the door. She hadn't been able to relax with him while they hadn't been alone, but now...

He opened the door and she barely let him step over the threshold before she was launching herself into his arms. "Nan," he breathed, and their lips met as he kicked the door closed behind him, their arms wrapped around each other. They kissed and kissed, over and over, her fingers in his hair and his body so warm against hers. He put her down and unzipped his coat, and they kissed again, slow and intense. When he pulled back, she knew she was flushed, her lips warm from his kisses. He kept his arms around her and studied her face.

She kept gazing at him, his sweet dark eyes, his strong jaw, his handsome face, as she found the necklace beneath his own shirt and tugged it up. When she slid his wedding band onto his finger, he released a soft, pleased sigh.

"Do you want to see the house?"

She nodded. She wanted to be in contact with him, and he was clearly proud of all the work he had put in. So was she. She laced her fingers through his once he had put his coat away, and he took her on a tour of the house. The dining room was simple, furnished with a large table and six chairs. Enough for the two of them, plus Ned's parents, and Hannah and Carson... maybe one day. Nancy saw little touches that definitely made her think Edith had been over to help Ned decorate, like the red satin ribbon tied in a bow on the dining room chandelier, the white and gold poinsettia centerpiece, the dull-bronze curtains.

He told her about the work he had done in the master bath, refinishing the cabinets, retiling, putting in a new mirror. All the floors throughout the house were hardwood now, with all the old, worn carpets ripped out. A guest bedroom was set up, and an office. The house was more than twice the size of Ned's old apartment, so the house definitely wasn't cluttered, but he had done a good job of filling it with nice furniture. Nancy saw Edith's influence in that, too, and imagined that his father had helped him get a good deal on the house. James Nickerson knew several realtors in and around the city.

At the top of the house, they looked out. Some of the houses in the neighborhood were lit up with Christmas decorations. It was a cozy scene. She gently squeezed his hand.

"You did an amazing job. Really. I love it."

He smiled at her and searched her eyes, and she could feel the question he wanted to ask her, but he didn't speak it. "I'm glad, baby. Are you hungry? I'm sorry, I should have asked—"

She shook her head. "I ate on the way in. I didn't expect you to be ready to feed me."

"Well, I have some of mom's soup in the fridge. I was going to have that for dinner."

In his apartment, Nancy had always felt like she was visiting him, but the place was definitely his. He had never said that, and he had always left space for her to put her belongings, but because of their relationship and what might happen if anyone found out, she couldn't leave things with him. She couldn't make the house truly theirs.

And yet... and yet. She saw a framed print of a painting she absolutely adored in the corner of the living room. On the dresser in the bedroom, Ned had placed a small white bear that she had won at a fair and then had given Ned, almost as a joke, when they had been in high school. He couldn't do anything so overt as placed framed photos of the two of them everywhere, but he had left signs of the shorthand of their relationship in all the smaller touches. He had written a few lines of his vows on a scrap of paper and pinned it under a magnet on the fridge.

_that here and now, my heart is fully yours, as it always has been_

_and for as long as we both shall live, I will be your home_

He was her home. And this felt like her home.

While Ned warmed up the soup, Nancy found a loaf of French bread and cut it into thin slices to toast. The refrigerator was sleek and modern, and as she found the butter and closed the door, she found herself imagining what it might be like to live here, for longer than just a week or two. To wash and dry dishes with Ned at the sink, to relax with him on the couch without feeling the distracting ticking of their last seconds together.

"So how was work?" she asked him, sitting across from him with the pile of toast between them. She picked up a slice and crunched into it, savoring the taste.

"It was good," he told her. "I got a promotion, did I tell you?"

"About a month ago?" They nodded at each other. "But tell me all about it. All I know is that you're making a little more money now."

"Yeah, a couple more thousand a year, but... oh, it's been great so far. Tyler's impressed with me. I think I might have a shot at making VP."

Ned said it casually, but Nancy's eyes widened. "Babe, that's great!" she exclaimed. "I mean, I know you're incredible, but I know you'd be fantastic at that."

Ned grinned. "Thanks," he murmured, and told her all about his new responsibilities as he finished his bowl of soup. "So since you're gonna be here for Christmas, are you planning on going over to your dad's?"

She nodded. She could read the longing in his eyes, and she felt it too. While their families didn't know about their situation and believed, as everyone else did, that they were broken up, they still had good relationships with each other's parents. Their staged breakup had been friendly. After being parts of each other's lives for so long, they hadn't been able to give that up.

But it would have looked suspicious for Nancy to go to the Nickerson home with him for Christmas, just as it would have been strange for him to come home with her. Nancy had loved that time together, though. Edith Nickerson had made sure she had a stocking, and she had been part of all the celebration, the preparations for the grand meal and the trip out to see holiday lights, and visits to Ned's grandparents. She missed it so much.

She missed Ned. She missed her home and who she was here. Without her friends and her family and her husband, when she was away, she felt like her connection, the continuity between who she had been and who she was, grew more fragile. Without them, the person she had been was gone.

Nancy knew other operatives who had been glad to leave their pasts behind, or at least to build something completely new for themselves. She knew others who were too homesick to make it through more than one or two assignments, who begged for desk duty, for analysis, for a stable life.

There had been a time when Nancy had pitied those people, even knowing that her marriage to Ned was a sign of that weakness in herself. Now she wasn't so sure.

Ned was working on updating the guest bathroom, so she helped him with that. He had a few tile samples and they considered them; he said that when he was on break for the holiday, they could go to the store, maybe pick out the new tile together...

And they could, but they would have to take off their rings, stage a chance meeting, just in case. It was one of the things she hated most about this. No slow, comfortable romantic dinners in restaurants in the city. No bowling or pool, or dancing together at any club. Everything that he had loved to do with her, and that she had loved to do with him...

He had to get up for work in the morning, and she could tell he was tired. When he yawned she suggested that they go to bed, and he nodded, running his fingers through his hair, leaving it rumpled and sexy. She followed him to the master bedroom, but before she could cross the threshold again, Ned shook his head.

"Come here," he murmured, and scooped her up into his arms, into the bridal carry.

She giggled as she gazed up into his face. "We've done this before," she pointed out softly.

"But not here, and this is our house. It finally feels right." He gave her a slow, gentle kiss before placing her on the bed. "And that's the view I've been waiting to see since I moved in," he murmured.

She smiled. "I know you're tired," she began softly.

He shook his head. "Not that tired," he told her. "If you're up for it."

She took her turn in the bathroom first, brushing her teeth, combing her hair, washing her face. When she came out, Ned had already changed into a pair of flannel pants, and he smiled at her before closing himself into the bathroom too.

Nancy could still count the number of times she and Ned had made love since their wedding. It still felt new and sweet, and when it had been so long, she even felt nervous. She knew some women took this for granted, that sharing a bed with their husbands was less than unremarkable. For them, maybe even the thought of sex was insipid.

She found one of Ned's button-down flannel pajama tops and quickly stripped off her clothes, then pulled on the top. The sheets were cool against her bare legs, and her teeth chattered a few times.

Ned came to bed, and when he saw that she was cold, he smiled. "Let me warm you up," he murmured, taking off his pants and shorts before he slid into bed naked.

Her heart skipped a beat when he touched her cheek. "I love you," she whispered.

"I love you too," he murmured, gazing into her eyes. "I'm so glad you're here. It finally feels like I'm home now."

She gasped when he moved on his knees between her legs. Her pulse was heavy in her ears as he began to unbutton the top, and as much as she wanted this, she had made herself not think about it for so long that she felt almost a little afraid.

Ned looked into her eyes, then gently parted the top, baring her breasts under the covers. He moved over her, touching his forehead to hers, and she closed her eyes, wrapping her arms around him. "I dream about you," he whispered. "I dream about this almost every night. My wife."

"My husband," she whispered. "Can you hold me? It's just... it's so much..."

He rolled onto his side, sliding his hand under the top to stroke her back as she moved into his arms. She buried her face against his chest, his leg sliding between hers, and for the first time since she had arrived, she felt herself begin to relax. When they were together, she and Ned were so in tune, but it took a little while to bring it back again. Since their wedding, every time they had seen each other again, they had met as partial strangers. They completely loved each other, but during the time apart, they had changed. Most of what Nancy had been through, she couldn't even discuss with Ned.

And she was supposed to leave him behind, like everything else. She had left so much behind.

She kissed his collarbone, rubbing his back, breathing him in. She stroked her fingers down the small of his back, and he inhaled as her palm rubbed over his fine ass, then stroked against his hip. When her fingertips brushed against his erection, he moved to kiss her.

She wanted to be one with him. She wanted to make love with him.

His tongue slid into her mouth, and he moved on top of her again, his palm cupping her bare breast, his thumb stroking her hard nipple. She felt him growl deep in his throat when she ran her fist to the base of his erection, then to the tip.

It was so fast, but they would have time to be gentle and slow, to rest together, to linger in each other's arms. For now, though...

He kissed her deeply and she returned it, feeling a rush of warmth between her legs. When Ned broke the kiss, he nuzzled against her cheek, her earlobe, her neck.

She gasped, arching, when his lips closed around her left nipple, when he began to suckle against it and fondle the other at the same time. Her legs parted wide as she buried her fingers in his hair. "Yes," she moaned, tipping her head back as he switched off, rubbing a saliva-slicked thumb against her sensitive nipple, plucking at it. He cupped her hip, feeling her gently rock under him, encouraging him. She felt so wet and tender inside.

Then he moved up again, looking into her eyes. "Like this?" he murmured.

She nodded. She loved letting him do the work in their lovemaking; she loved the lust and need she saw in his eyes when she rode him, too. He was the only man who had ever shared her bed, and nothing was like making love with him.

He moved to pull open the drawer in the bedside table, and she slipped out of the open pajama top as he rolled a condom onto his erection. The bed was no longer cold; she was burning up in anticipation and desire. She gazed up at him as he moved over her again, and her heart ached with love.

She released a cry, drawing her heels toward her to cradle his hips between her thighs as he began to move inside her. He touched her clit and she released a quiet sob, reaching up for him, wanting to feel him so deep inside her.

"Yes," Ned whispered. "Oh my God, sweetheart, you feel so good."

She nodded. "More," she gasped.

He began to stroke in her with deeper and deeper thrusts, still slowly fondling her clit, and she trembled, panting for breath. For a second, for the space of a heartbeat, she felt an echo of the uncertainty, the pain of losing her virginity to him. Then he was deep inside her, and she relaxed even as she tightened around him.

He kissed her and she wrapped her legs around him, her hips jarred by his every thrust. He was so, so deep inside her, and he filled her so completely, so perfectly. She dug her nails against his shoulder blades, burying her other hand in his hair.

"So good," Ned gasped when he broke their kiss. " _Fuck_..."

She whimpered when he stroked his thumb against her clit again. "Don't stop," she begged him. "Feels so good, I've missed you, I've _missed you..._ "

A lump of tears rose in her throat, making her voice waver. She had not let herself think about it for so, so long, and it left her trembling.

He circled her clit, panting as he searched her eyes. "I love you," he said, his voice hoarse.

"I love you too," she moaned softly. "Oh, God, I love you so much."

He changed his rhythm against her clit, making his strokes inside her longer, and she released a long, desperate moan.

"There's no one on the other side of the wall to overhear, be as loud as you want," he told her. "Scream, if you want to."

Experimentally she gasped out a louder cry, then an even louder one. "Ned," she sobbed. "Oh my God _yesssss, yes! Oh my God!_ "

He moved down toward her, still stroking in and out of her slick, tender sex, still fondling her clit. "Yes," he breathed against her ear. "So fucking good. _Come._ Come for me."

She gazed into his eyes, her own swimming, the tension building deep inside her, tensing her stomach, her shoulders. With another stroke against her clit, she felt her inner flesh clench hard around his erection, and she cried out as her orgasm sent a shudder down her spine. Her inner flesh pulsed in fluttering spasms around him, and as he moved in her with more rapid thrusts she tipped her head back, arching under him with a loud, sobbing cry. With the new angle of her hips, the way he felt inside her—

She screamed, her hips moving in rapid thrusts to meet his, her breasts bouncing. When Ned brought a hand up so he could tweak one of her tender nipples, she screamed again, clenching tight around him.

Ned rode her through it, until she was sobbing, babbling "Oh my _God_ " over and over, clinging to him. She held him tight when he slowly lowered himself to her, still buried deep inside her, and he nuzzled against her cheek, her neck. Nancy was trembling, gasping for breath. Her legs were still wrapped around him.

"Nan," he whispered. "Oh, sweetheart."

"Yes," she whispered. "So good. Oh, you're so good..."

She didn't know how long it took to recover, until she was breathing normally again. They clung to each other, and her eyes were closed, her skin damp from exertion. She could feel her every heartbeat, and the echo in his own chest.

Then Ned kissed her cheek, and she turned her head and gave him a long, sweet kiss. Her palm was resting against his shoulder blades, and his skin was so warm against hers.

She chuckled softly when he broke the kiss. "Hmm?"

"You did a great job of warming me up," she murmured. "That was incredible, honey."

He smiled and brushed the tip of his nose against hers. "Same to you, beautiful," he murmured.

After he had disposed of the condom and cleaned them both up, he slid beneath the covers again and she moved into his arms, both of them still naked. The blanket was pulled up almost over their heads, and he was so warm and solid against her.

He had dreamed about this, and now she felt like she was the one in a dream. When they were apart, she could only rarely afford the luxury of thinking about this—because if she let herself think about it too much, she would never want to leave him. Even now, she could feel their time together ticking down.

But she didn't have to.

She had told him, and he had respected it. She knew what he wanted, and she wanted it too. But they couldn't have it yet. Not yet. She couldn't bear for him to even ask.

Even so, she could still feel it on his lips, in his heart. His leg was tucked between hers, and his breath ruffled her hair. It was going to be so hard to leave, and she knew that was what he wanted.

_Stay._

She nuzzled against him, and he made a soft pleased sound, tightening his grip on her.

 _I will_ , she vowed silently. _One day, I swear I will._


	2. Chapter 2

Nancy hadn't seen her husband in three days.

In comparison, that was nothing, no time at all. But usually he was thousands of miles away, beyond her reach. Oceans separated them. Everything she was, everything she had chosen to be, separated them.

During the three days they were apart, barely a handful of miles usually separated them. And that rankled like nothing else. The pull between them felt magnetic and undeniable, almost palpable, as though anyone who saw her must sense it. She was incomplete. She was aching for want of him. 

When he was far away, it was easier to let herself pretend she was whole. When they were apart, she _was_ okay; she had learned how to function. But here, in River Heights, it felt unnatural not to share her life with him. When she slept in her bed at her father's house, Ned's photographic presence still watched over her. He was ten years younger in the framed photo, and when she gazed at it, trying to will herself to sleep, it was all she could do not to pick up the phone and call him.

It was too dangerous. They both knew that. They both knew that he could be used as leverage against her, if anyone wanted to hurt her, if anyone found out he was her husband or that she loved him. Just the little time they shared was still too much, was still reckless.

But her soul, the very essence of her, seemed to sleep, to drift, when they were apart. Oh, she could be a damned good agent, she _was_ a damned good agent, but she had to lock down a part of herself to do the job. And that part of herself was what Ned loved more than anything. Waking to it again, being that person again, felt almost exhilarating.

Her father had suggested that they attend the Christmas ball at the River Heights Country Club, and Nancy had agreed. She hadn't been able to resist it, especially since Ned's parents were going too. While Nancy and Ned had been able to dance together while they were alone and private, she hadn't had a _real_ dance with him in so long. She thought wistfully of their wedding night, how incredibly sad she had been to know that she would be leaving him soon, that their marriage wouldn't mean sharing their lives. There had been no reception that day, no dancing, no witnesses. No champagne toast, no wedding cake. They had danced barefoot together to their song, the sound almost tinny from his cell phone's speakers, as close as skin, their hearts twinned, flushed with longing and anticipation. Marveling at the shining bands on their fingers and the knowledge that in this small way, they were joined.

When she...

Nancy let herself truly imagine it for just an instant, and she shivered in delight. If she came home, if she took a career stateside and could live with Ned full-time, maybe they could have a real honeymoon, the kind that would end with him carrying her over the threshold of their forever home. She wouldn't be mentally crossing off every day of her visit and dreading the dwindling. She would be waking up beside him and looking over at him lazily, instead of memorizing his face and his skin and the warm perfect lines of him, destroying her happiness by focusing on the loss.

She couldn't regret the life she had chosen. In fact, most of her was still completely in awe that Ned had ever agreed to the plan at all. But he had stayed faithful to her, and she to him. Their promises hadn't been light and fleeting, even if they were together so briefly.

"Nancy? Something light before we go?"

Nancy had turned at the tap against her bedroom door, and smiled at Avery, her stepmother. "Something light sounds good. Thank you."

Avery smiled back at her. "Is that the dress you'll be wearing tonight? It's gorgeous."

Nancy smoothed her palm over the floor-length skirt. She had picked it out for another dance last year, but she had been called back into the field before she could wear it; it still fit her perfectly, though. The white satin was smooth and cool against her skin, printed in abstract roses. A slender black belt circled her trim waist. The dress was formal, but it had pockets; it was long, but playful, and not so cumbersome that it would interfere with dancing. Nancy had fallen in love with it the moment she had seen it in the dressing-room mirror.

Plus, the neckline was modest, high enough to hide the ring she wore on her necklace. When she was in the field, sometimes she just wore it on her right hand; but tonight, Ned would be there...

"Thanks," Nancy said, realizing that she had hesitated just a bit too long in answering. Avery was still smiling, but her expression had changed slightly. "I do really love it. I just hope it's festive enough."

"I definitely think so. And maybe with some pearls..."

It was remarkable, Nancy thought when she sat down to their light dinner before they departed. Her father greeted Avery with a kiss on the cheek and a warm, genuine smile. Then he gave Nancy a broad grin. "It's good to have my two favorite girls here," he said, reaching for her hand.

When Nancy had been a teenager, she had dreaded that this day might ever come. She had known her father was lonely, and he was a distinguished, attractive, prosperous man; of course women would be attracted to him. But all Nancy had known was the three of them, her father and Hannah and herself, their created family. _Nancy_ had been in charge of the house, once she had been old enough. She had prided herself on that. Someone coming in and taking that away from her, stealing her father's heart—the idea had been worse than intolerable. She had been so jealous of the women her father had dated back then, and even when she told herself that she was being ridiculous, that her father would never stop loving her, that hadn't helped.

Her father had met Avery after Nancy had become an agent, when she was overseas. Their wedding had taken place while she was away. Nancy hadn't been back in River Heights, bereft and jealous, while her father and her new stepmother had been luxuriating on their honeymoon. Instead, she had brought a wedding gift with her on her next trip home, and had spent two days with Avery, learning about her and honestly deciding that she liked the woman her father had fallen in love with. Even the ache she had felt, thinking of her mother... even that ache had faded when her father had taken her out to lunch, just the two of them, and had told her all about his decision. Nancy's father would never, not for the rest of his life, stop loving Nancy's mother. He had loved her for a very, very long time. But he was lonely, and Avery was a companion for him, and a friend. He cared deeply for her. He was happy with her.

And so Nancy was happy for him, even though that happiness felt tinged so slightly with bittersweet. She hoped it would last, that her father and Avery would be very happy together. He deserved that.

"Carson tells me that you'll be visiting a friend for a few days?" Avery commented, passing Nancy a glass of iced water.

Nancy nodded. "I'm not able to come home as often as I'd like, so I have to make some time for a lot of people," she said. "Though no one gets as much time as dear old Dad here."

He grinned at her. "My daughter the social butterfly," he said. "I'm just glad you make time for me at all. You know that I'm very proud of you, honey."

She smiled. "And I'm glad to know that I'm leaving you in two very capable pairs of hands," she replied. "Only not just yet."

Just then Hannah came in with the last dish. "All right," she announced, dusting off her hands as she took a seat. "No time to waste, if you want to get to the dance on time!"

From the beginning of her relationship with Ned, there had been so many dances: homecomings, spring dances, proms, and then the dances at Emerson. Before, those dances had been with her father. He had taught her the steps, how to formally dance with hands clasped and one of her hands on his shoulder, and she had laughed in delight. From the time she had been a little girl, Nancy's father had been the most important man in her life, bar none. No one had meant or could ever mean so much to her. And when other young men of her age asked her to dance, they always paled in comparison, in every possible way.

The country club was fully decorated for the season. Dominating the entry was an impressively tall, live Christmas tree, festooned with tiny white lights and red velvet bows. The linens on the tables were snowy white trimmed in gold. Glossy green holly dotted with plump cherry-red berries was draped over doorways. The whole effect was tasteful without being gaudy. Golden flutes of champagne and cups of bright-red punch were distributed by impeccably-dressed waiters, and the refreshment tables were full of petite cakes decorated with gingerbread men, snowflakes, and fur-trimmed Santa caps. Nancy spotted a tray of white-robed truffles and an impressive Buche de Noel, but opted for punch, thanks to Hannah's excellent dinner.

Carson danced to the first song with Avery, while Nancy was drawn into conversation by a few people she knew from River Heights, but her father asked for the second dance, and Nancy smiled as she accepted.

"You look beautiful tonight, sweetheart."

"Thank you." She flashed him a small grin. "And you look dashing, as always."

Her father chuckled. "I know I keep saying it, but it really is so good to see you. I do miss you, a lot. Avery is a wonderful woman, but there's no one I can talk through a case with like you."

"I miss you too, Dad."

He smiled. "And that's enough guilt trip for tonight, I think," he said, keeping his voice light. "What would you like for Christmas this year?"

"And now you're playing Santa?" She squinted at him. "You're missing a lot more than the red fur-trimmed suit. Much too handsome for Santa, too."

"That's a relief. But I did mean it. Is there anything you really want?"

"Other than a pony?" she teased him, not letting herself think about what she really, truly wanted.

He shook his head, searching her face, but didn't say anything. Just as she did when she was a teenager, she had the uncomfortable feeling that he was seeing past the facade and into her. Often it had been easy for him to tell what she was thinking. Tonight, she was afraid, that might be all _too_ easy. She needed to keep herself under tight control—while she and Ned were at the dance, anyway.

Even so, that admonition to herself practically went out the window when she spotted him. She was dancing with another man, a bachelor who had come with his own parents and had been delighted to find someone close to his own age who was single too. He was polite, charmingly nervous, but Nancy's heart and mind were elsewhere. Then she saw Ned step into the room, and time stopped for her.

He was breathtakingly handsome. His tuxedo was a glossy black, perfectly tailored without looking fussy or pompous. A few snowflakes were melting in his dark hair. His dark eyes scanned the room, his eyebrows drawing together slightly—and then Nancy's gaze met his, and that faint anxiety melted away.

Her husband.

As rude as it would have been, she seriously considered dashing away from her partner mid-song and throwing herself into Ned's arms. It would have been beyond rude, really. It would have meant snapping her fingers and sending their carefully stacked house of cards tumbling to nothing. The fiction of their breakup would be made transparently so, by such a bald display of emotion.

That seemed to make her want it more, though. She was so weary of pretending. She and Ned loved each other. It was the most basic truth of her entire life, and to deny it was to deny a part of herself.

She didn't dash to Ned and wrap herself around him, clinging tight to him until the lump of tears in her throat faded. She danced to the next song with another man, and Ned with another woman. She couldn't stop herself from casting the occasional glance in Ned's direction, though, and more often than not, he was looking her way too.

Walking toward Ned instead of running toward him took more self-control than she had needed in quite some time. She was effortlessly casual about it, even though every beat of her heart resounded in her chest and her fingertips were trembling faintly. She didn't lock her gaze to his, ignoring everyone around them; instead, she took the time to greet a few people, to apologize that her trip home would be so short.

The torture wasn't exquisite. It was maddening. She wanted to be with Ned so much that the very molecules inside her seemed to vibrate with it.

"Miss Drew." Ned took the hand she offered him, brought it to his lips, and brushed a kiss against her knuckles.

Nancy knew she was blushing, and cursed herself for it. "Mr. Nickerson," she murmured, her gaze bright as it lingered on his face. "It's good to see you again."

He nodded. "Would you care to dance?"

"I would love to," she replied.

Nancy's father had taught her the steps, but Ned had taught her to truly _dance_ , to feel the music and the joy of being with the man she loved, to feel pleasure instead of amusement or polite disinterest when her partner held her in his arms. Ned was an incredible dancer, or maybe it was just that for her, he was the only partner who was perfectly made for her.

When the next song began, Ned moved toward her, placing his hand at her waist and clasping his other around hers. She rested her palm against his shoulder, trying to keep the touch natural and not intimate; she was sure her anxiety seemed entirely appropriate. After all, to everyone else in the room, he was her ex. Of course dancing with him would cause her some level of trepidation.

"I've missed you," he said.

Nancy gazed directly into his eyes. She wanted to feel the warmth of his skin against hers. She wanted to feel his lips, his breath, his tongue. She wanted the sweet weight of him, the hardness of his muscles, clasped between her thighs, resting on top of her, her limbs twined around him. She wanted to hear his laughter.

"I've missed you so much," she whispered.

They had been golden for so long. They should never have broken up. But she was gone, and he...

For her, the rest of the room ceased to exist, all the people around them, the warmth, even anything beyond the suggestion of the music and the way their bodies moved in response. He was the center of her whole world. He kept her anchored. He made her whole.

"There's so much I would say to you," he murmured, gazing deeply into her eyes, his lips barely moving. Just in case. It was beyond belief, that someone Nancy had known from childhood might report back to someone else that she and Ned seemed too close, that there might be something there... but it wasn't impossible. Even here.

Her heart skipped a beat. "I wish things were different," she said, and nothing had been more honest in her entire life. "Thank you for dancing with me."

"Always." When Ned looked into her eyes, there was no pretense there, no lies. He was so sweet, so sincere. And, impossibly, he was hers.

She didn't trust herself to say anything else; it could wait until they were alone, and it would. The next song was slow, and when he took her in his arms and she draped her own over his shoulders, the space between them just barely on the edge of decorum, she could feel his warmth radiating through his tux and wanted so, so badly to press herself against him. When his gaze dropped to her lips, she felt them part as she flushed in anticipation. He was her only lover, and she responded to him as she did no one else. There had never been anyone else in the world for her, and there never would be.

He whispered her name, and it was all she could do not to bury her face against his shoulder and hold him tight.

To her, he was beautiful, thoroughly beautiful. He was kind and helpful and generous and smart, and he delighted in making her happy. Some boys were handsome, but lost their looks when they became men; their hairlines receded, turned a dingy gray or a yellow-white, or their hair thinned. Their veins became prominent thanks to stress or drinking. Once-taut skin began to sag or puff, or harden into lines of stubbornness or cruelty. The once-teasing smiles and laughter became juvenile and hurtful.

Ned had been an incredibly handsome guy at the age of seventeen, when they had met. But when she looked at pictures of them back then, she was struck by the softness of youth, the innocence. The lines of Ned's face were chiseled now, strong and square. His dark eyes sparkled with both intelligence and warmth; they weren't clouded and left suspicious by cynicism. His cheeks were gleaming-smooth, but unlike some men, that didn't make him appear rosy-cheeked and childish. Instead, he looked well-groomed and—irresistible.

She knew that there was no way women hadn't made passes at him while they were married, while she was gone and unlikely to find out or even consider it. Maybe they kept the rings they had exchanged close to their hearts, but they were never put on display to dissuade other people.

And maybe that was as it should have been, she realized. For them, anyway. She hadn't made a vow of fidelity that she would honor unless faced with temptation; she had made that vow forever, whether anyone outside the two of them were ever aware of it or not.

Nancy was unsurprised by it, but her heart sank when the song ended and a woman wearing a daringly low-cut red dress, her lipstick a matching brilliant crimson, approached the two of them and asked Ned if he would like to dance. Nancy and her husband exchanged a glance, and she saw both apology and pain in his eyes. If it were up to them, as it had been years before, they wouldn't have left each other's arms the entire night. When Nancy released him, it actually physically hurt.

A man who would have been otherwise handsome, if Ned hadn't been in the room, approached her and asked for a dance, but she begged off. Her heart was aching too much. She took a glass of punch and a few snacks and wandered back to the table her father and Avery had claimed for the night, and from there she watched her stepmother and father dance, and her husband dance with another woman. She was gratified when the woman in the red dress urged Ned closer, but he politely put her off.

Ned was more than one in a million. He was one in all infinity.

When Don Cameron asked her to dance at the beginning of the next song, she agreed, and they made polite conversation. She even managed to smile at him a few times. Don really was a sweet guy, and now that he was engaged to someone else and fully in love with her, Nancy didn't feel that perpetual anxiety when he was around her. He had finally managed to give up his crush on her, and she was glad.

Nancy was only able to share one more dance with Ned before the band concluded the last song and wished them all a good night and a merry Christmas. During that dance, Nancy felt desperate, even though she knew that they wouldn't be parted long. The experience was just too sweet to let go so easily. She and Ned were too overwhelmed to talk, and too preoccupied to lie for anyone who might overhear. When she looked into his dark eyes, she saw love and need and urgency. She felt just the same way. And their bodies moved in such perfect synchronization that it stole her breath, that she could have cried.

She craved this; it was undeniable. She was lonely when they were apart, and when she was with him this way, it became like an addiction. The longer she was around him, the harder it was to let him go. No wonder long-term undercover agents were firmly told that marriage was out of the question, until they were back home for good.

At the end of their dance together, Ned wrapped her in a long, warm hug, and Nancy felt tears prick at her eyes as she held him tight in return. It was, she realized foolishly, as though they really were saying goodbye to each other tonight, and that was perfect for their cover, but it tore her heart in two to feel this way. They knew when the embrace was too long, and released each other reluctantly. His gaze dropped to her lips one last time, and then he reached for her hand, bringing it to his own lips again.

"To my only true partner," he murmured, and kissed her knuckles, then gently lowered her hand again.

Nancy didn't remember the rest of the dance. Once it was over, it was hard for her to remember that she had actually danced with anyone other than Ned. Her bag was already packed, back at her father's house; as soon as she was back in her childhood room she was unzipping her gown and toeing out of her shoes. If she didn't see him again soon, _now_ , she would die. Her heart would just break.

Her father had changed clothes too, she saw, when she rushed downstairs. "Dad, you don't have to," she protested.

"But I want to. Indulge your old man."

"You're hardly old," she told him, as he put on his heavy coat. Hannah had already put out candles and flashlights, in case the winter storm managed to knock out power. She encouraged Nancy to take one of the flashlights, in case the friend she was visiting was without power already. When Hannah offered to rush back to the fridge to grab some leftovers, Nancy told her a firm no. She accepted the already-wrapped slice of chocolate cake Hannah thrust into her hands, though. Ned had always loved Hannah's chocolate cake.

Outside, the wind was ice-cold and the air seemed almost brittle, stinging as it hit the back of Nancy's throat and her lungs. Even in the shelter of the attached garage, it was still bitterly cold. She and her father rushed into the car, shivering, and he cranked up the heat as high as it would go before heading out to the River Heights train station.

Then he turned the radio down, and Nancy turned to him expectantly. She was almost giddy with anticipation, and her father would understand some of that, but she didn't want to hurt his feelings.

"Nan," he began. "I know maybe it's just that I'm settled down, and that I'm very happy with your stepmother, but... I would love to see you settled down, too. I think that maybe you're lonely. Maybe you aren't; you can tell me if I'm entirely off base." He flashed a smile at her, though his eyes were concerned. "But I saw you dancing with Ned tonight, and it's clear that... that you two still have feelings for each other. And I've always thought he was a good man. I know it's none of my business, and maybe you have a relationship with someone else... if you do, I hope he's a good man too."

Nancy swallowed the sudden lump of tears in her throat. "There's no one in my life right now," she said, trying to keep her voice light, and hating that out of anyone, she had to lie to her father about this. "Maybe once I retire from the field, there could be. But my life is too chaotic, too dangerous, right now. He understands that. I would like to settle down one day, maybe. And just maybe, if Ned... feels that way too, well... we'll see."

Her father nodded. "All right. I won't bring it up again. I just wanted you to know that. You two made a very handsome couple out there. You just looked... right, together. Maybe because you were with him for so long."

"Maybe," Nancy whispered, trying to keep her voice from shaking.

Every time she did this, every time she came home and let herself step into the warmth and safety of her relationship with Ned, she was playing with fire. But she couldn't help herself. She just couldn't give him or this up.

She wanted to see the day when no one would ever ask her to.

\--

Ned was unsurprised when he opened the front door of his house, and complete and utter silence greeted him from the pitch darkness. The rest of the block had been eerily dark too. The power had flickered a few times earlier in the day, and thanks to his mother's insistence, he had made sure he had plenty of batteries and candles and matches and snacks. They were all grouped on the table so he could find them easily in the dark.

His parents' house had power—although who knew for how long, and when he was in the city, the crews were more likely to restore their power first—but he'd had no intention of staying there after the dance. This was the only place he and Nancy could be together, truly together, and he didn't want to miss a second of it.

The darkness seemed far less oppressive once he had distributed candles around the main room, their flames sending flickering shadows against the walls. He had laid wood and some crumpled newspaper in the fireplace earlier, and once the wood caught, the sight of it made Ned smile.

His wife. She had looked so incredibly beautiful, from the first second he had seen her at the dance, and it had been all he could do to stop himself from running over to the other man and rudely interrupting so he could draw Nancy into his arms. Every dance they had shared, he had ached to talk to her, to _really_ talk to her, beyond the veiled innuendo they were limited to in public. He had seen such pain and such longing in her eyes, and he felt the same way. Three days apart when they were in the same state was unbearable. While he was awake, he wondered what she was doing, if she was thinking about him, if he could find some way to contact her that would keep their cover story intact; while he slept, he dreamed of only her.

How had he ever been able to sleep alone? When he woke to an empty bed, his heart sank. He wanted to tangle himself around her and breathe in the scent of her hair and feel the warm softness of her skin beneath his palms. He wanted to make love to her, but more than that, he just wanted to hold her and feel her laugh and just the wonder of her breathing. He was fully, completely infatuated with her and by her. She was everything to him.

He turned on the radio, crossing his fingers and hoping that the last use hadn't drained the batteries completely. Immediately a man's voice erupted from the speakers. "—and many residents on the south and east sides of Chicago are currently without power. Crews are out working on the lines, and people are advised not to leave their homes unless absolutely necessary. To those of you listening, hope you're safe and snug somewhere with your loved ones. On a happier note, let's get back to some holiday music."

Ned looked around the living room, wondering how long it would be before Nancy could join him. She would take a train from River Heights, but after that... he wasn't sure how many taxis or other forms of transportation she had to take to feel that she hadn't been followed to his place. He had been forbidden to just pick her up from the train station, even though that would have been much easier. They couldn't risk it.

Sometimes he wondered if their relationship was made all the sweeter by the secrecy, but he didn't believe it. It added an element of danger, of the unknown, but he would gladly have given all that up if it meant that she would move back and truly share her life with him. Besides, that element of danger was all too real. Even if it never happened, even if no one ever tried to hurt her by threatening him, Ned knew it was a possibility. He also thought it far more likely that her father would be the one threatened—and that was more than upsetting. He had always liked and respected the man who was his unknowing father-in-law. He only hoped that Carson would understand when he found out about the decision Nancy and Ned had made six years ago.

He might never find out, though. Once— _if_ — _once_ Nancy came back, she might ask that they preserve the fiction for a while longer, fake a renewed courtship, another proposal that they could acknowledge to their family and friends, a public wedding. To make it legal this time, legal and lasting.

Ned didn't care if their marriage was ever legal. To him, it was real, and couldn't be made more real by a cold string of data in a computer somewhere. She was his wife.

And he couldn't deny that he had bought this place hoping that she would see it and know that she was _home_ , that this was where she was meant to be. He had wanted her to turn to him after the tour and laugh and thank him for making a home for her, for them to be together. This place had felt right for that. It still did.

But she hadn't.

Nancy had never done anything on anyone else's timeline, and this was no different. Maybe she needed some time to warm to the idea. Maybe she would start taking the steps she needed to leave the field, even if she wanted to stay with the agency. He didn't care, as long as it meant they could be together, as long as she could be safe and whole.

The anticipation grew until he almost couldn't breathe. He went to the bedroom and made sure the bed was turned down invitingly, and that the candles and the fire lain in the fireplace were ready to light; he spread two more blankets over the comforter for good measure. He was annoyed that the power was out, but the candlelight did make the room undeniably more romantic, so it wasn't a total loss. Staying inside with her, splitting delivery pizza and dancing to the radio, that wasn't the end of the world.

He was checking the dark street in front of his house for the fifth time when he saw the sweep of headlights, and told himself not to get his hopes up. But it was her. He didn't know how he knew, but when she stepped out of the car, hitched the strap of her duffel bag higher on her shoulder and huddled against the freezing wind, he saw the wind snatch a long lock of reddish-gold hair from beneath her hood, and the flash of her eyes as she glanced up at his house.

His heart was in his throat. It was like they were going on a first date again, as absurd as that sounded. He just felt that nervous, that concerned about making everything perfect.

He had the door open before she reached it, and she hurried up the last few steps, launching herself into his arms as soon as she stepped over the threshold. "Ned," she sighed, clinging to him, her breath against his neck. "Oh my God, baby..."

Any intelligent conversation went out the window. He closed the door and backed her against it, his lips fused to hers, her cheek cold against his, her coat cold under his fingers. She dropped her bag, yanked off her gloves and dropped them, and her body rose in speechless welcome as he unzipped her coat and caressed her sides and back, feeling her warmth through silky cashmere. She giggled when he nuzzled against her cheek and neck, when he slipped his palm under her sweater and traced her spine with his fingertips. He felt like his heart started to beat again at the sound.

"I love you so much," he whispered.

"I love you too," she murmured, and she was breathless, but she wasn't laughing anymore. Her blue eyes were earnest and sincere when he gazed into them.

Ned had to concentrate to actually take a step back and stop himself from just ravishing her on the couch. Their couch. Their house. "You looked beautiful tonight," he told her. "You look beautiful right now."

She blushed slightly. She was uncomfortable when people paid her compliments, but she had confessed to Ned that his compliments made her almost giddy. "So do you," she told him. "When I saw you come in I just wanted to run straight over to you..."

"Me too," he admitted. "Come on, I'll take your bag. With any luck the power won't be out too long."

She shrugged. "I don't know," she told him. "It does seem pretty romantic."

He smiled. "Then I'll pretend it was intentional," he said.

The radio still seemed to be going strong once they had dropped off her bag. She had taken something foil-wrapped out of it, though, and presented it to him once they were back in the main living area. "A present for you. From Hannah. Although she didn't know it would be for you," she admitted.

Ned accepted it with a grin. "Is it... ohhhh, yes," he said triumphantly. "If Hannah had been at the dance tonight, I totally would have asked her for one. She is truly a goddess among women."

Nancy laughed. "And I'm sure she's sorry she can't hear that glowing compliment," she said. "Go ahead, dig in."

"Only if you promise to have a bite too."

"Oh, all right," she pretended to grumble.

Every time they were together like this felt like another piece of their abbreviated honeymoon: the intimacy, the privacy, getting to know each other all over again. His need for her, and that renewed skittishness she seemed to feel every first night. To him, it was sweet; she was self-conscious and she wanted everything to be perfect. Every first night was the first night of the rest of their life together, even if its duration was shorter than either of them wanted.

Nancy didn't dress for him in sweet or sultry lingerie, not in nightgowns or little suits meant to arouse him. She wore bras and panties trimmed with a minimum of frill or ornament: opaque satin, the barest hint of lace. Tonight she wouldn't put on a gown and seduce him. In that way, they almost did feel like a couple married for six years. But they had never had that in their relationship, not really, outside a few nights at the Omega house when he had been at Emerson and he had never, never imagined that their life would ever be this way.

He had been happy to have her, whatever way he could. Two weeks together and fifty apart. Scars he had never seen before, faded by the time he did see them, and he couldn't ask because he knew she couldn't answer. He could only hope and pray that the woman more important to him than life itself was safe and in relative comfort when they were apart. And no one else in his life could ever know why he was sometimes struck with such depression that faking a smile was almost impossible.

He needed her. He needed her like air, like water. Without her, his life was a blur, a series of events that he made his way through by telling himself that he was becoming better for her, that all his efforts were to make a better life for them when she returned.

_If._

_No._

To the rest of them, Nancy was his former flame, and he had been more than willing to pretend that he still carried a torch for her. It fit Nancy's so carefully constructed cover story, but more than that, it was true. If everyone else believed them star-crossed lovers, even though that still made her afraid he would be in danger as a result, at least it allowed them the barest luxury of a dance together, one they could have without anything beyond wistful comment.

"Mom and Dad thought you looked really nice tonight, too," Ned commented.

Nancy was in his arms again. They were dancing in the living room to the Christmas music on the radio, and he was holding her as close and tight as he had wanted to out on the dance floor at the country club. She was warm and her skin was golden in the candlelight, and to him, she had never looked more beautiful. The years of their marriage had been kind to her, he mused as his gaze searched her face. Her cheeks had lost that innocent curve, but her blue eyes were just as keen and intelligent as they had always been. Now, she moved with confidence and grace, not nervousness and self-consciousness. She carried herself like a queen, but with humility instead of haughtiness. She always put others' needs above her own. And she was so quietly, thoroughly beautiful that he knew men flirted with her; she was irresistible.

But she was his, promised and given, fully and completely. She could have been with other men, if she had chosen, especially if she hadn't participated in their less than fully legal wedding. But when he touched her, when he was buried deep inside her and gazing into her beautiful eyes, he knew he was the only one, that he always had been. No one could fit with her as he did. No one could ever complete her as he did.

"They were there?" Nancy looked up at him in dismay. "Oh no. I should have said something to them... but from the second I saw you..."

Ned chuckled. "They noticed that," he commented. "In fact, Mom said that I should just steal you away, because clearly you were still in love with me, you just needed a little push. And then you'd come back and..."

Ned's voice trailed off. His mother had been partially joking, but it had given his heart such a jolt that he hadn't been able to reply, even in jest. He wanted that too, more than he could ever say.

But Nancy smiled, and Ned's heart skipped a beat. "I guess my dad was thinking along the same wavelength," she said. "When he was taking me to the train station, he mentioned that we just looked—right together. That he hoped I'd settle down, maybe even with you. He thinks you're a good guy."

"And my parents still love you, too," he said.

They just gazed at each other then, their bodies still moving to the beat of the music. He reached up and cupped her cheek, and she searched his eyes. Then her gaze dropped to his lips.

Just as his had done several times while they had been dancing at the country club.

Her lips were parted even before his brushed them. Inside her mouth was warm and wet. Her tongue slid against his, tasting faintly of chocolate, and their steps slowed as she arched against him. Her breasts were firm under her sweater, and he wanted so badly to slide his hands beneath her clothes and cup them in his palms. He loved the way she moaned when he fondled her. He loved _her._

Her blue eyes were hazed with desire when he pulled back. "Ned..."

"Mmm?" He stroked her cheek, as they caught the rhythm of the song again and began to move with it.

"I wish it could always be like this," she whispered.

He smiled, but for a few seconds he couldn't find his voice. "We're whole," he whispered. "It's like nothing else in my life."

"This _is_ my life. This is everything..."

She turned her head to kiss his thumb, then cupped her hand over his. "This is everything," she whispered again. "Oh my God, I never want to let you go."

His throat was aching, and he swallowed before he spoke. "Then don't," he whispered.

"Do you want me? I mean... we're apart so much, and you're used to this life..."

"Just like you're used to yours? Baby, of course I want you. This house is for you. It's _ours_. It's your home."

Her eyes were gleaming with tears. "It felt that way when I walked in," she admitted softly.

Ned touched his forehead to hers. "Nan," he whispered, but he couldn't make himself say it. He was too afraid of what her answer would be.

_Stay. Please stay with me._

_You know I can't. I'm so sorry..._

_If you love me..._

But he could never hurt her that way, never give her that ultimatum. Never make her choose between him and her career. It would be so, so terribly unfair. They had agreed, and he wasn't going to take it back.

She touched his cheek. "Take me to bed?" she whispered.

In answer he tilted his head and kissed her again, sweetly, deeply. Their steps slowed and then he picked her up, and she wrapped herself around him. He wanted to just take the few steps to the couch and lower her to it, but it wasn't their bed. It wouldn't give them the space, and once they were basking in the afterglow, he wanted to be there in their bed.

"Our bed," she whispered, as though she could read his thoughts. She was panting softly, breathless from their kiss, and she ran her fingers through his hair. "I need you. I've missed you so much. For so long." She blinked, and then her eyes were gleaming with tears again.

He nuzzled against her and kissed her cheek, the corner of her mouth. "I miss you every second we're apart," he told her. "I love you so much."

"I love you too," she whispered, and then she kissed him hard.

Ned gave in and blindly walked toward the couch with her, her tongue sliding against his, her body pressed tight against his. He placed her on the arm and she broke the kiss with a soft pop.

"Unless you want to make love in front of the fire in here," he suggested, "let's blow out the candles and go to bed."

She smiled at him, immediately springing to her feet. All too briefly she wrapped an arm around his waist and gave him a squeeze, and the simple intimacy of the gesture made his heart rise in his throat. Then she was blowing out candles.

Once they were in the bedroom, Ned set himself to lighting the fire in the fireplace while Nancy prepared for bed. The fire was just beginning to blaze merrily, and the room was warm and golden in flickering candlelight, when she came out again. "Your turn," she murmured. "Oh, I love this."

He wrapped his arm around her waist as he passed near her, drawing her to him for an all too brief moment. "Glad you like it," he murmured. "Go to bed, sweetheart. I'll be right there."

The entire reason Ned bought pajama sets was so Nancy could wear the top and he could wear the pants. In the bathroom Ned washed his face and brushed his teeth, then looked down at the wedding ring he had worn ever since he had closed his front door behind him. He wore it often when he was alone. It made him feel closer to his wife, even if she couldn't wear her own nearly so often.

His wife. Before the novelty of her presence wore off, she would be gone again.

He opened the door to the bedroom and saw her sitting up against the headboard, wearing the green and black plaid top to his pajamas. The top wasn't buttoned. Her reddish-gold hair tumbled down to just below her shoulders, and her beautiful skin was honeyed gold in the firelight. She looked so gorgeous.

Ned opened the drawer in the small table beside the bed, and his wife watched him pull out a handful of condoms still in their wrappers, a bottle of lube, and a small vibrating bullet in a ribbed silicone sleeve; he could slide his finger through the ring attached to the sleeve and control it that way. Nancy had loved it during her last visit home, when he had first used it with her. For tonight, he had made sure that the batteries were fresh.

"Mmm." She glanced from the toy up to his face. "Guess the best things in life really don't require electricity, huh."

Ned chuckled. "Or at least they're battery-powered. Although I gotta say, it is pretty humbling that my girl is turned on by a little hunk of metal nowhere near the size of my dick."

She reached for him, touching his arm. "I'm turned on because you'll be the person using it with me," she told him. "That we'll be making love and it'll be your lips, your fingers, your incredibly gorgeous body... that you'll be using it to make me ready for you."

"Because there's nothing I love more than watching you come, beautiful," he told her, moving under the covers. He slid his pants off and reached toward her, his fingertips gliding over warm smooth flesh as they glanced against her thigh. She moved toward him, a glowing smile on her face.

"And there's nothing I love more than making _you_ come," she told him. "What do you want to do tonight?"

"What do you?" he countered, sliding his hand under the open pajama top and confirming that she wore nothing beneath it, only what felt like lace-trimmed cotton panties.

"Mmm." She reached for him too, touching his side, arching when he cupped her bare breast. "I spend so much time trying to memorize this," she whispered. "I just want to enjoy it tonight."

"You do that too?"

She nodded, her lashes low. "I don't want this to ever end," she whispered. Then she took a breath and moved. Her hand brushed his chest, and she touched the ball of her thumb to his tight nipple.

"Me either," he told her. He tried to keep his voice light; he was afraid to say anything else.

After a moment, while he fondled her breast and felt her move restlessly in response, she made a quiet noise and rolled onto her back, then pulled the shirt off. When she came back to him, she wore only her panties and her wedding band, and she moved close to him. Ned's lashes fluttered down when she pressed her breasts against his bare chest and began to feather kisses against his neck and shoulder, her palm stroking his bare back. She hooked her leg over his hip and he made a soft sound. Her panties were warm and the fabric was smooth, and when they brushed against his erection, he wanted to grab her hips and hold her against him, rub himself against her.

Her nipples were hard and pebbled, dragging against his chest, her breasts firm and warm and yielding. She used her tongue too, as she worked her way down, lavishing him with her attention, nuzzling and chuckling and breathing against his skin. It was incredibly erotic. When her breast touched his erection, Ned twined his fingers in her hair.

He wanted to be able to relive this later, but that meant not _living_ it. When she rolled him onto his back and straddled his legs, rubbing her breasts against his erection, Ned groaned loudly and looked down at her, trying to let go of his desperation and need. She was here, in the flesh, and he wouldn't waste this by letting himself think about what would come later. The crushing loneliness, and how bittersweet this would feel.

"Feel good?"

"Mmm." He nodded. "I love it."

"And this?"

Ned wasn't surprised, but he was incredibly turned on when she moved down and licked the head of his erection. The sensation made him shudder in pleasure. "So good," he told her. "That feels so good, baby."

He had taught her how to do this, and the way she did it... oh God, it was perfect. It was so good. She licked and sucked, caressed and fondled, and her tongue flicked wickedly against him. Her breasts and hard-tipped nipples rubbed against his upper thighs. He buried his hand in her hair and used the other to fondle his nipples, because she was stroking his balls.

She took him deep a few times, and Ned's hips thrust up, gently so he wouldn't scare her. She sucked his cock and he wanted so, so badly to climax that way, to spend himself down her throat.

"Mmm. Come," she gasped, and licked the head of his erection, the swipes of her tongue hard and greedy. "Come, handsome, show me what you want to do inside me..."

Then she took him in her mouth again, bobbing up and down, and Ned panted harshly as he tried hard to control himself. "So good," he told her. "So fucking good. Baby, I can't... I have to..."

She sucked hard against him, encouraging him, gazing up toward his face through her eyelashes, and when he saw that, he couldn't help himself. He came with a thrust of his hips and a harsh cry, forcing himself to release the grip he had on her hair in case she needed to scramble away from him.

But she didn't. She licked him and sucked against him, moaning against his cock as it softened in her mouth, then released him and pressed a gentle kiss against the tip, flicking her tongue against it before she moved back.

Ned was fully, entirely spent, his heart thundering. Nancy pushed herself up onto her knees, her breasts bare, a satisfied smile on her face as she gazed at him. "Good?" she purred.

"The best fuck of my life," he panted. "You've killed me, woman. Come sit on my face so I can return the favor."

With the last of his energy, he moved on the bed so his head was on the pillow and she could straddle his face. While she started to move up toward him, obeying his command, he reached over and found the bullet, sliding the loop on the sleeve over the base of his finger.

His wife's pussy was so slick and warm as he swiped his tongue against it, one of his hands rubbing over her perfect ass, his other fondling her breasts and pressing the humming bullet vibrator against each nipple in turn. She moaned in pleasure, her hips gently rocking, and the scent of her drove him crazy with need. They had used a dildo and a full-length penetrating vibrator before, but he wanted to be inside her. He wanted her to be sobbing and crying out his name, responding to how he filled her and pleased her.

He traced the still-humming vibrator down her chest, over her belly, circling her belly button, and he heard her panting in anticipation. He licked the slick folds of her sex as he fitted the bullet vibe between her lips and pressed the ribbed sleeve against her clit.

She sucked in a breath, releasing it in a long moan. "Yes, _yes,_ " she sobbed, her hips rocking a little harder. When he glanced up at her, he saw her fondling her own breasts in the firelight, and his own hips thrust gently in response. She pinched her nipples, her cheeks flushed.

Then he brought his head up slightly. "Down," he ordered her, and when her hips gently rocked into the position he wanted, he drew her clit between his lips and suckled hard, teasing the slick folds of her sex with the vibrator, circling the tender flesh at her entrance. 

She kept fondling her breasts with one hand, reaching down with the other to twine her fingers in his hair. "Oh my _God,_ " she sobbed. "Don't stop don't stop _don't stop_ oh that's so _fucking good_..."

She actually ground herself against him, and it was incredibly hot. He worked the vibrator and his finger up inside her and sucked her clit, and she began to cry out, her head tipped back. "Ned!" she cried. "Fuck yes so good _so good_..."

She babbled in pleasure, every breath edged in an orgasmic moan. He gently bit her clit and her hips jolted as she whimpered. He felt another wave of her arousal against the finger he had worked up into her sex.

Then he squirmed his finger up a little higher and pressed the vibrator against a particular place inside her—

And she screamed full-throated, thrusting her hips, sobbing out his name as her pussy clenched around his finger and the vibrator. He scraped his teeth against her clit and her panting sobs rose into another scream.

When he glanced up, she was pinching her nipples hard, her head tipped back, her shoulders tensed and back arched. He licked her clit one last time and she whimpered again, and he felt her pulse around him again.

He had recovered, and he needed her. He needed her so much.

He let his head fall back onto the pillow, panting at the exertion. "Get on your back," he told her. "Over here..."

He rolled off the bed, his chin slick with her arousal, the taste of it still on his tongue. She let him guide her to the edge of the bed, and opened her legs wide; she even pushed herself up from her heels, giving him a good angle to slide inside her.

He had turned the vibrator off to save the battery, and after he had rolled on a condom, he let his gaze wander over her. Her nipples were tight and her breasts were reddened from her rough fondling. The flesh between her legs gleamed, and the slick folds were a deep flushed pink. He could see the smooth button of her clit, peeking from beneath its hood.

"You look so fucking beautiful," he told her. "So fucking gorgeous. And hotter than hell."

She smiled. "Speak for yourself," she murmured, and her voice was a little hoarse from her screams. "I want to look into those sweet dark eyes while you work every hot, hard inch up in me. Make it last, baby..."

It took every last molecule of his self-control, but he took his time; he slicked lube over the condom and turned the vibrator back on, but before he could touch her with it, she reached for his hand and brought it to her mouth, licking the tip and tasting her own arousal. Ned shuddered as she peered at him through her lashes. He moved his finger into her mouth and she moaned as she sucked against it.

He fondled her breasts again, the vibrator wet as he rubbed it over her still-peaked nipples, and she grasped his arm, his shoulder, urging him down to her. He moved a knee onto the bed and arched over her, and she buried her hand in his hair, moaning again as he kissed her deeply, his tongue sliding against hers. Watching her voluntarily taste her own arousal, watching her suck his finger...

He dropped his hips suddenly so that the underside of his shaft rested against the slick folds of her sex, kissing her again, trailing his hand and the vibrator down her chest. She moaned again, breaking their kiss so she could pant harshly. "Touch me," she begged him.

"Show me where you want it, beautiful."

She guided his hand down and gasped in pleasure as they seated the bullet against her clit. Then she reached down and parted the lips of her sex a little wider. He kissed her, rubbing the underside of his cock firmly against the tender flesh.

"Fuck me," she begged him, breathless, thrusting her hips a few times. "Deep and slow..."

"What do you think I'm doing?" he murmured, but he was smiling. He nuzzled against her, just beneath her earlobe, and flicked his tongue over the skin there as he angled his cock and found her already moving back into position for him. He worked himself inside her by slow, agonizingly slow inches, feeling her hips thrust and rock in anticipation, and it was so, so fucking hard not to just plunge himself deep inside her and then rut with sharp, frantic strokes.

Nancy arched, idly teasing her own nipple as she tipped her head back. "Oh _yes_ ," she moaned, her sex clenching around his as he pressed his full length between her legs. "So good, _so fucking good..._ "

Then he began to withdraw, and when he began another slow descent, filling her again, he danced the vibrator against her clit in hard, brief strokes.

She whipped her head back and forth, releasing a shrill scream, and began to roughly fondle her breasts again. Her face was deeply flushed.

"You like that?"

" _Yes!_ " She was sobbing when he jolted against her at the deepest point in his thrust. God, to fuck that sweet pussy bareback...

"Say my name."

"Ned! Oh my God, _Ned!_ " She was panting loudly, but she brought her chin back down so she could gaze up into his eyes. "So good, so deep and perfect, oh _God, Ned..._ more, _more, oh God..._ "

Keeping his strokes smooth and deliberate was the hardest thing he had done in a long time. He could hear, could practically feel her arousal and the wet, almost dirty sound of their joining. He fondled her and worked in her until she screamed and her inner flesh pulsed against him, and then even beyond that, their gazes locked, her hips thrusting up to meet his.

When he came with a long groan, she wrapped her legs around him and drew him down to collapse against her. He somehow found the strength to turn the vibrator off, and then his lips were against hers, her mouth warm and wet under his, her arms sliding around him and his own sliding under her shoulders to hold her tight.

"Was it good?"

She laughed, breathlessly. "How can you ask that?" she said. "Oh my God, Ned."

"So, yes?"

She ran her fingers through his hair. "The best fuck of my life. Oh, you spoil me," she whispered. "You worship me and then fuck me until I should feel dirty, but I just feel... like a woman. A strong, incredibly happy woman who is completely in love with her husband. Every last hard, hot inch of him."

Ned chuckled. "Every last one, huh."

"Mmm-hmm. Like this one." She caressed his temple. "And this one." She kissed the point of his jaw. "And this one," she said, gazing deep into his eyes as she deliberately clenched her inner flesh around him again.

Ned shuddered and kissed her again, deep and hard. His lashes and hers were low when he pulled back. "I'm yours," he said, his voice almost hoarse with sincerity. "You know that, don't you? To the core."

She nodded. "And I'm yours," she whispered. "Always."

\--

Nancy always knew where she was when she woke, even if that meant just knowing the likely identity of whoever had abducted her. Even so, it was still relatively unusual to wake this way: naked, with an undeniably masculine person spooned up tight behind her. His arm was draped over her. Everywhere their bodies touched, she was warm, almost flushed. She could feel his heart beating against her back.

Her husband.

She was still mostly asleep. She felt safe and comfortable and so, so totally relaxed that she almost couldn't move. She let herself just luxuriate in it. No thinking about the future, or how much she would miss this. Because someday soon, this would be their life together.

He was the only man who had ever been so intimate with her, and he was the only man she could ever imagine being with this way. The hot, dirty sex would have made her ashamed with anyone else; with him, because she knew how much he enjoyed it, how much it turned him on, she couldn't feel ashamed of it. And it was what he wanted, and what he had taught her... and she loved sharing her body with him, and feeling him love her in return.

Tonight he had come closer than he ever had before; she had seen it in his eyes, felt it in his desperation. Maybe he sensed what was on her mind and in her heart. But there were steps she had to take before she could walk away, and knowing he was home, coming out of his skin with anticipation and need...

Ned's hand twitched. Then he released a soft sigh and cupped her breast.

Her nipples had just begun to tighten, and at the stimulation, she felt her breasts tingle with arousal. The join of her thighs still felt incredibly slick, too, and when she realized that he was beginning to harden, her sex pulsed gently.

The vibrator. Oh, oh God, it had felt so incredible, feeling him tease her with it while he fondled and licked and suckled and fucked her...

She made a soft sound, then stretched out blindly in the near dark and located it on the bedside table. She spooned up against Ned again, and he cupped her breast again, rubbing the ball of his thumb against her hardened nipple.

She breathed out before she gently took his hand from her breast and brought it to her lips, brushing a kiss against it. Then she fitted the loop on the silicone sleeve over his index finger, so it was curved slightly against the bullet vibe sheathed inside.

"Mmm." He turned the vibe on, then used it to stimulate each of her nipples in turn, and she squirmed, her ass brushing against his growing erection. He had to know what she wanted; nothing felt like the vibration against her clit.

Nancy reached behind her and stroked Ned's hip and ass. Ned breathed against her shoulder and neck, nuzzled against her, then very gently sucked and bit the sensitive flesh there. She moaned softly when he guided his hand down her chest, snaking the other under her to keep fondling her breasts, and seated the buzzing vibe against her clit.

"Ohhhh," she moaned, her hips shifting again. She bent her upper leg and planted the sole of her foot against the mattress behind her husband, giving him plenty of space to maneuver. Ned grunted when her ass brushed against his erection again, and she took a breath, then rolled onto her back.

Ned was on his side, and Nancy opened her legs as wide as she could, gently bucking her hips as he stimulated her clit with firm swipes. " _Mmmmmm_ ," she moaned, barely feeling the chill in the air, still flushed from being in contact with him and how fucking incredible this felt.

She needed him. She needed him deep inside her.

When she rolled onto her side to face him, his hand fell away from her, but she didn't care. She brought her leg up to drape over his hip, then rolled on top of him, the join of her thighs against his erection. Ned was on his back, and he moaned when she rubbed her slick inner lips against him, grinding her hips against his. She bowed her head, panting, as she rubbed her clit against his cock, as her slippery wet inner flesh came in contact with him. Ned reached up and fondled her breasts, sighing in pleasure and arousal at what she was doing.

Just the thought of what she was about to do made Nancy tremble with need and almost violent arousal. There was no way, no way in hell she could stop herself or turn back. She needed it so much.

She reached down and held his erection in place, maneuvering on her knees, and then took him inside her with slow, smooth strokes, until the entire length and girth of his sex was sheathed by her own. As soon as he was fully inside her, Nancy dropped her chin to her chest, her heart pounding as she focused on the way it felt. He felt so big; he seemed to fill her up, to stretch her tender inner flesh as he fit snug inside her. And when he brought the vibrator down and glanced it against her clit, she gasped, her sex tightening in a quick pulse against him.

"Fuck," Ned gasped, the first word he had actually spoken. "Baby that feels so fucking good..."

"Mmm," she moaned in agreement, then moved to arch over him as she straddled him, her legs parted wide, her breasts trembling with her every breath. She planted her palms above his shoulders, and when she squirmed her hips, the change of his angle inside her made her shudder.

"Shit," Ned growled. "Baby, I—I need a condom..."

She ignored him, drawing her knees toward his hips so she could pull back slightly, bringing her hips up and then descending again. His cock was slick with her arousal, and it felt incredible to mount him.

Ned tipped his head back, panting harshly. "Nan..."

"Shh." She leaned down again, arching to rub her tender peaked nipples against his warm, muscular chest, and kissed his earlobe. "I know you like it..."

"I love it... oh _shit, shit_ , baby, it's so fucking good and I _can't_..."

She pulled back and mounted him again, grinding against him at the deepest point, gasping at the incredible pleasure and ache of it. A few times, she and Ned had tried bareback, but that meant he had to pull out and finish himself off, and she had been able to tell that he hadn't liked it. He wanted to fuck her and come inside her. As incredible as he found the sensation of her flesh directly against his cock, he needed to come with her.

"Nan," he begged her.

She kissed his ear again, riding him with rapid, almost bouncing thrusts, keeping them short so most of his length stayed inside her. "Put that vibe against my clit and feel me come," she moaned. "You feel so fucking good, Ned. Is it good for you?"

"Oh my _God,_ " Ned cried out, and he cupped her hips. She knew that he could easily roll her onto her back and pull out of her, and she didn't want that. She wanted him to come inside her, nothing between them. No condom, no nothing. He was her husband and she wanted his seed inside her.

"Come inside me," she begged him. "Please, Ned, _please_..."

His breathing was ragged. "Fuck," he snarled. "Oh fuck. Harder..."

She obeyed him, pushing herself up, supporting her weight on her palms as she rode him with rapid thrusts. "Ohhhhh," she moaned, and when he rubbed the vibrator against her clit again, she cried out, bouncing up and down on top of him. She teased and flicked her own nipples, arching so Ned could rub the vibe more firmly against her clit, and she shuddered every time her hips sank flush to his.

"Come," Ned begged her. "Let me feel it, beautiful, oh _God_ that pussy feels so _fucking_ good..."

She looked down into his eyes. "Just as good as that big, hard cock does inside me," she panted. "Oh _God..."_

When she grew tired, she leaned down and fucked him with short rapid thrusts, her hips jerking as the vibe played against her clit. Ned's hips rose rhythmically under hers, and his fingertips trailed against her spine, tangled in her hair. "Oh my _God_ ," he moaned. "Fuck yes, fuck _yes_..."

The tension building inside her spiked suddenly, and she began sobbing, riding him more erratically. Her inner flesh clenched and released around him, and his hips bucked in response.

"Oh my _God!_ " Nancy cried out loudly, still sobbing, trembling when her nipples brushed his chest. She panted, sobbing, a scream building in her as she buried her face against him. Her sex was pulsing and clenching tight around him, and she finally did scream, the sound of it muffled by his skin.

"Oh my _God,_ " Ned echoed her, reaching down to grab her ass and hold her tight to him as his hips jolted. Nancy twitched, gasping for breath as she felt her husband spend himself deep inside her. She moaned, boneless, all her energy spent. She couldn't move. All she could do was breathe and feel _him_ , the warmth and hardness of him, the sensation of him relaxing inside her, his palm against the small of her back. She was gleaming with exertion, her heart pounding. The only other sound she could hear, beside both of them trying to catch their breath, was the faint pop and crackle of the dying fire in the fireplace.

Ned grunted and the distant, muffled sound of the vibrator stopped. Nancy moaned and nestled slightly deeper against him, her thighs still spread, his cock still inside her. She heard the dull thump of the toy falling onto the bedside table, and then he was stroking her hair.

"What... just happened," he murmured.

She buried her face against his chest for a moment. Then she turned her head and took a deep breath. "I rode you until you came. Was it good?"

Ned laughed, still a little breathless. "Holy shit. I never want to use condoms again, that's for damn sure. My gorgeous, incredibly sexy wife just fucked me bareback. And I can fucking feel her pussy against me right now. Your pussy. It's incredible."

She shivered, clenching gently against him.

He kissed her forehead, then somehow managed to draw the sheet up over them without moving very much at all. Nancy relaxed against him, completely at peace. He was still inside her. She liked it. She liked that they didn't have to part so he could dispose of a condom.

"Am I too heavy?" she whispered, her voice slow, her eyes closed. "I can move..."

"Don't you dare," he murmured in reply. "What you're doing right now is _perfect_ , babe." Then he drew his palm slowly down her back, back up to her shoulder blades.

"I love you," he whispered.

"I love you too," she murmured. "Thank you... for giving me a part of you."

He chuckled briefly. "You have all of me," he murmured. "You always have, and you always will."

She wiggled her hips gently, straightening her legs on either side of his as she began to relax toward sleep again. "I'll remember that," she whispered.

"You'd better." He draped his arm over her. "Sleep, beautiful."


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter includes intimacy during menstrual period during one scene, just in case you're not into that; it's pretty clear when that's going on so you can easily skip over it, if it upsets you.

Nancy maneuvered around a knot of giggling teenagers stampeding down the center of the aisle, and when her shoulder touched the plate glass of a store window, she paused and took a long breath. So close to Christmas, the mall was packed with shoppers picking up last-minute gifts and spending gift cards. She was among them, with Bess and George. Even though all Nancy's gifts had been purchased and wrapped, and were waiting to be opened under the tree at her father's house, this had been a way to see two of her very best friends in the world, and she hadn't wanted to pass that up.

But her heart ached. Around her she saw couples with joined hands, entwined arms, bumping shoulders and grinning at each other. She saw mothers pushing babies in strollers, fathers carrying toddlers. Lovers and families.

As far as everyone else on earth knew, she was alone. As far as Bess and George were concerned, she was alone. Nancy couldn't talk to them about her husband, and she had been talking to them about Ned for so long that holding her tongue now felt strange.

But, she reminded herself, it was for a good reason. She couldn't put the man she loved in danger, especially not now, especially after they had been so careful for so long. Their secret marriage, were it discovered, would put a huge target on his back, and she would never forgive herself if he were hurt because of her.

Nancy pushed her chilly hands into her pockets and took slow steps toward the store Bess had vanished inside. The mall was unbelievably warm thanks to everyone around them; she could smell cinnamon and sugar from the food court, hot oil and garlic. Pine garlands strung with tiny white lights had been wrapped around posts and railings. Signs of the holiday were all around her.

She had been given her orders. She would be leaving early Christmas morning.

She couldn't remember a single time it had been easy for her to leave Ned, but ever since she had found out for sure when she would be leaving, she had been on the verge of tears. She would be spending tonight with him, and going to her father's house for Christmas Eve in the morning. In less than twenty-four hours, she would have to bid her husband goodbye. They wouldn't see each other again for months, maybe close to a year.

If she had her way, this would be the last time they would be apart. If she could manage it, at this time next year, maybe she would be coming home to him for good. But she wasn't sure how she would be able to make it through, how she could seal off her loneliness and need all over again. Every time, it was harder.

They weren't meant to live this way.

In a perfect world, he would be with her—even though she knew that was impossible. He couldn't accompany her on her missions. Not yet, anyway.

The next store she passed carried high-end watches and leather goods. Nancy's gaze skipped over the displayed items without processing or pausing. She had agreed to go on this shopping trip before she had known how brief her time with Ned would become, and she could feel it, impatience and need, made all the stronger because Ned was feeling it too.

She felt sick, and so infinitely sad.

Then she spotted a beautiful shearling-lined jacket, and walked in to look at it. She wouldn't take it with her; if anything, she could buy it and leave it at her father's house. Sometimes, when she considered purchases she would have to leave behind, she felt like she was being foolish. She was buying hope, buying what could never truly be a promise. She couldn't even leave it with Ned; he could have nothing of hers, not if she wanted to keep him safe.

Then she saw it. A headless mannequin wore a gorgeous wool duster, and a crossbody leather messenger bag had been slung over one broad shoulder. It was embossed with initials, but the bag was dark brown, made of soft supple leather, and Nancy was captivated by it. Ned didn't have anything like this. It was beautiful.

He could carry it and think of her.

She could hardly bear to leave the store and take her eyes off it, but she followed Bess, finding her with several sweaters draped over one folded arm, her polished fingertips stroking a cashmere scarf. "Feel this," Bess demanded immediately.

Nancy did; she smiled at the incredible softness. "It's great," she agreed. "Can you do me a favor?"

Bess raised her eyebrows. "Did you spot someone we need to trail?" she stage-whispered.

Nancy chuckled. "No, nothing like that. I... I have cash but I need you to buy something for me. If you can."

Bess studied her face. "Okay," she said, clearly curious. "Uh, let me try these on. Do I need to do it right now?"

_Yes._ Nancy made herself shrug. "When you're done here is fine."

George came into the store while Bess was in the dressing room. She carried an enormous bag from a sporting goods store. "Let me guess. Another hour here..."

Nancy laughed. "Maybe. Can you do me a favor?"

Together they went to the other store, and directly to the bag; Nancy knew that Bess would have stopped to inspect half the purses and coats on the way. George didn't ask questions, either, even though Nancy knew she was just as curious as her cousin was. Nancy carried George's enormous shopping bag as the two of them stood in line. "So what, did they have a half-off sale on running shoes?"

"Practically," George replied, running her fingers through her short dark hair. "And, leather? Really?" She _tsk_ ed.

"I know. I wouldn't buy it, but it's—it's perfect. And it's already made; it's not like I commissioned it or something."

"Mmm." George glanced down at it. "It doesn't quite look like your dad's style, either." She looked directly into Nancy's eyes, a question in her own.

Nancy felt herself trying to blush, and took a slow calming breath. It was harder to lie to people who had known her for a long time, but she knew how. "Just a gift for my boss. He keeps track of my purchases, so at least this way it'll be a surprise."

George searched Nancy's eyes, then shrugged gently and glanced away. Nancy released her breath in a silent sigh. "Must suck, to not be able to do anything without someone watching."

_You have no idea._ "I think it's that way for most people; at least I know it," Nancy pointed out. "Are you finished with all your shopping?"

"Yeah, finally. Now my favorite part, all the wrapping." She wrinkled her nose. "I hate to ask this, but is there any chance you'll be home for longer next time? I know you'll be leaving soon, but it feels like forever since we've had a chance to sit down and really _talk_. You know, like with a sleepover..."

Nancy gave George a small smile. "I know what you mean. And I hope so, I really do. No one has any time, this time of year. It's all parties and family meals and everything."

George dipped her head as they shuffled a few steps forward, reaching the head of the line. "And we miss you. I know you probably can't talk about what's going on right now, but..."

"Yeah." Nancy patted George's arm. "I miss you both too. This has been harder than I thought it would be," she admitted quietly.

"I never thought you'd say that," George said. "This—I thought it was everything you wanted."

"It is." Nancy crossed her arms. "It's scary to figure out that 'everything' isn't enough."

Even though a part of her was fidgeting, vibrating with impatience, she had lunch with Bess and George—and she genuinely enjoyed it. She missed so many of the people who had been important in her life. Bess told a story about the ugly sweater Christmas party at her work that left Nancy practically doubled over with laughter. George talked about the newest accessory she had bought for her phone, and Nancy made a mental note to track one down herself.

After a brief stop, Nancy made her way to the house Ned had bought for them, making doubly and triply sure she wasn't being followed, even though she was more than eager to make a beeline to him and forget all caution. They had been so careful. There was no way she would jeopardize it now. There wasn't. She kept telling herself that.

She tucked her reddish-gold hair securely under her knit cap and made sure her coat was zipped all the way up, then walked up the block and to his front door, quickly slotting her key into the deadbolt. Ned was just rising from the couch; the Christmas tree lights were on, and she could smell recently cooked chicken. They had long joked that Ned could cook chicken—as long as it didn't come within ten feet of a grill.

"Hey," he said, crossing to her, and she dropped her bag and reached for him as he swept her up into his arms. How had they wasted all their time together? She wanted to cry when she remembered. Less than a day, now. Oh God. Oh, oh God.

"Hey," she whispered, clinging to him. "Mmmm..."

He moved back slightly, then reached up to cup her cheek. Her eyes were stinging, and with his thumb he brushed a cold tear away. His eyes began to shine in response. "Shhh," he whispered. "Don't cry, honey."

She gave him a small smile and sniffled. "I just couldn't wait to see you," she whispered, keeping her voice soft so it wouldn't crack.

"I couldn't wait either," he whispered. He touched his forehead to hers, still stroking her cheek. "I've missed you so much."

She took a breath. _I don't know how I'm going to leave this time,_ she thought, and another tear spilled down her cheek. Ned picked her up and walked with her to the couch, and she held him tight, resting her face against his neck.

Her heart felt like it was breaking.

He rubbed her back. "We should do something fun," he murmured. "Make a good memory."

It was infinitely unfair that they _couldn't_. They couldn't go out for coffee or hot chocolate, couldn't go ice skating or to the theater. She sniffled and pulled back, wiping hastily at her wet cheeks. "Yeah," she agreed. "What were you thinking about?"

They decided on playing board games, and they talked and laughed. Ned tickled her a few times, and she shrieked and squirmed away from him, her cheeks glowing. She loved the closeness, the familiarity between them. They never lost it, not really, but they were back at a place where being like this felt natural. He told her about the party, too; the night before, she had spent at her father's house because Ned had been invited to a party by one of his coworkers. He had told her that he would be happy to stay home with her, but she had insisted that he go; it would look strange if he didn't attend, and she understood that his life didn't stop when theirs happened to intersect for a while. She couldn't help wishing that she could have gone with him, though. It had been a long time since Ned had been able to show her off and beam with pride as he introduced her to someone new, as his girlfriend. He had never been able to introduce her to anyone as his wife.

The previous afternoon, her period had started, too. She had been expecting it, but she hadn't known that she had made love to him for the last time this trip. And her moodiness definitely wasn't making this any easier.

After they made spaghetti for dinner, she made brownies. Ned rested his arms around her waist, watching what she was doing, occasionally dropping a kiss on the crown of her head or nuzzling against her neck. Whenever she felt her thoughts begin to darken, she just shook her head and waited for the trembling to pass. They were making a memory, and she would remember this; she would remember how wonderful it felt to be in his arms, feeling loved by him.

She poured the batter into the pan, then swiped her fingertip through a swirl of leftover chocolate and offered her finger to him. He held her hand, sucking her finger between his lips and licking it clean with firm swipes of his tongue, and she shuddered. Maybe they couldn't be together tonight in the way both of them wanted, but that didn't mean he didn't still leave her warm with desire.

"Delicious," he told her, his voice a low rumble that made her knees weak. "I can't wait to taste."

She smiled. "It's just a boxed mix," she demurred. "So easy—"

"I could make it?" Ned chuckled. "We both know that isn't true. So, what are we going to do while we wait?"

"Present?" She gave him a tentative smile. "I know we said no presents..."

"And I saw that giant bag you brought in. Besides, I bought you something too..." He shook his head when her eyes widened. "I know, I know. You can't take it with you. I'll just keep it here until you come home again."

She shook her head slightly. It was incredibly dangerous for them to do this; it was incredibly dangerous of her to even buy him a present as she had. If anyone searched his place and found something that connected back to her, to his having been with her recently... that was why, before she left his place for good, she always took care to wipe everything down and clean as thoroughly as she could.

"I couldn't help myself. I'm sorry."

The look on his face was so pitiful that she cupped his face in her palms and searched his sweet dark eyes. "Don't be sorry," she murmured. "I... I think it's sweet. And I know I can give you so little of what a marriage is supposed to be..."

He picked her up, bringing their faces level. "I wish we were together all the time," he told her, then smiled. "But whatever time we have together... it means more to me than anything else. My wife is here and home with me. And I love you so much."

She stroked her fingers through his hair, then offered her face for a kiss. He kissed her deeply, and she felt a flush rise in her cheeks when she realized he was becoming aroused. She was aching a little between her legs, but not in readiness, and a cramp pulsed like an angry fist in her womb.

"Mmmm," she murmured, when he broke the kiss and nuzzled against her cheek. "I started my period yesterday, honey—I'm sorry."

She felt him smile against her skin. "Well," he murmured. "That does change my plans for tonight. Are you feeling okay?"

"Yeah." She gave him a lingering kiss before he put her down. "I wish I'd known, before. I could have made that last time extra-special."

"As though it wasn't," he told her softly, and she blushed slightly in pleasure.

They went into the main room to open presents. Ned had already wrapped gifts for his parents and other family members, and those were under the tree. He pulled out a garment box and came over to the couch, offering it to her. She handed him his gift in exchange.

"Merry Christmas, sweetheart."

"You shouldn't have," she murmured, but she gave him a smile. "This is very sweet of you. But you've always been the sweetest guy I know."

"You might not think that once you open it." She raised her eyebrows at him. "You'll see."

She opened her present first. On top, she saw a beautiful, stylish silver bracelet. Two of the links were in the shape of hearts, and a small red stone was set at the cleft of each heart. Nancy smiled as she slid it onto her wrist and admired it.

"It's beautiful, honey. Thank you. I love it."

He grinned. "I'm glad. I know you'll only wear it here, but..."

She nodded. "And..."

Once she saw the beautiful burgundy satin underneath, she realized what he had meant. The nightie was absolutely gorgeous, trimmed in delicate black lace. The satin was thick and lovely. She couldn't wear it tonight, but she couldn't wait to model it for him during her next visit.

"And I'll keep that here for you too," he told her. "For next time. I just thought you'd look so beautiful and sexy in it."

She flushed a little, in pleasure. "I'll be happy to show you," she told him. "Just be careful when you hide it." She frowned slightly. "Maybe it would have been a better cover if you pretended to have a girlfriend..."

He shook his head. "No. That probably would have hurt even more. To pretend to love someone while the woman I love is so far away?"

As her gaze searched his face, her heart broke for him all over again, and guilt swept over her. He did deserve far more than this, and marrying him had been incredibly selfish. But she truly couldn't imagine her life without him, even in so limited a capacity. He really was her home. And the thought of him playing house with another woman, faking a relationship with her, did make Nancy's blood boil. Ned was _hers_. He had been her first, and he would be her only.

"I'm sorry," she whispered. "This has been so unfair to you..."

He cupped her cheek. "I'm not sorry," he told her. "I want to be with you. I'm sorry that it's not for longer. I'd be with you all the time if I could." He touched the corner of her lips with his thumb, and she felt a quiet tingling over her skin, awareness that he wanted to kiss her. "As much as it hurts sometimes... I'm so grateful that you married me. You could have walked out of my life..."

"Sometimes it feels like I have," she whispered. "Like this is just a dream... and in a few days I'll wake up and wish with all my heart that I could get back here."

He gave her a very small smile.

She glanced down. Her throat ached, and she almost felt like she couldn't breathe. "It will be soon," she whispered, and glanced back up, searching his eyes. "I promise. I've loved these past few years, and all I've been missing is you. Thank you for... for being incredible. You really have."

His palm was still against her cheek. "It will... do you mean you'll be coming home?"

She nodded, her throat still aching.

His adam's apple bobbed. His lips moved slightly, but no sound came out. Then he cleared his throat. "When you wanted it without a condom, I thought... maybe you wanted us to try... but you know that if you were pregnant, I'd find you, no matter where you were, and bring you home. You know that, don't you?"

She nodded, a tear sliding down her cheek. "But it won't be that way," she told him. "Our life together, our family, isn't going to start that way. I wouldn't put our baby in that kind of danger." She reached up and squeezed his shoulder. "I love you."

"I love you too."

She smiled again and nodded at the bag beside him. "Open your present," she said softly.

When he saw the bag, he ran a caressing hand over it. "It's wonderful," he told her. "I love it. Thank you, honey. Whenever I use it I'll think of you." He smiled. "As though I don't already."

She reached for his hand. "Once I'm gone... I left a few surprises in there for you."

He raised his eyebrows. "You know I want to search the whole thing now," he said, and flipped the cover back. "Even the lining is nice."

She glanced down. "I shouldn't have done it," she whispered. "It's a link between us."

"But you can't let it stop you from living." He gently squeezed her hand. "Didn't you tell me that once? That you wouldn't let it stop you?"

She smiled gently. "You mean right before I made an honest man of you?"

Ned chuckled. "Before you made me the happiest man in the world," he told her. "You did then and you do now."

They were gazing into each other's eyes when the timer chirped, letting them know it would go off in a minute. She moved onto her knees and gave him a long sweet kiss, gently stroking the nape of his neck. "You make me reckless," she whispered. "Is that what every man wants to hear? I had to give George cash so she could buy that for me, so there would be no record that I was involved. When we had sex that night, I wanted that part of you to stay inside me for a while, even if it wouldn't lead anywhere. I wanted you to feel good. I wanted to give you a gift."

He kissed her again, hungrily, and her womb clenched in answer; she gasped softly when it turned into a cramp. "You'll be coming home," he whispered, panting softly. "The next time I see you... maybe it will be for the rest of our lives. I've wanted this so much that I feel like I really _am_ dreaming."

The timer began to chirp insistently. Nancy dropped another kiss on his lips before rising to turn it off. "What will you do, when you see me again?"

Ned followed her into the kitchen. "Spirit you away to some hotel for a week," he told her.

She grinned as she found the oven mitts and checked the brownies. They looked perfect. "I know you'd _like_ to," she replied, glancing over at him with her eyes sparkling.

"I would want you here," he said. "But you said you'd want to keep this up, didn't you? For us to pretend we're just meeting again."

She nodded. "We could have a short engagement," she suggested.

"We've had the longest engagement in the world." He wrapped his arms around her from behind and nuzzled against her neck. "If it's soon, maybe the summer."

She closed her eyes as he kissed her skin, as he slid a hand under her top and caressed her bare stomach. "Don't tease me," she whispered. "All I want is our family and friends to be there. To wear our rings in public—to go _everywhere,_ with you. Can you give me the world?"

"No," he whispered. "Because you're my world. And I won't give you up for anyone. Please stay with me, beautiful. Stay with me for the rest of our lives."

She frowned, her brow creasing, and a pair of tears slipped down her cheeks. "I will," she whispered. "I swear I will."

That night, when they went to bed, Nancy stripped down to her panties and wrapped herself around her naked husband. They wore their rings, and she closed her eyes as she memorized his heartbeat. He was so warm. Their bodies seemed to just fit, so perfectly.

And she couldn't sleep.

How had she ever left him? She wasn't sure she would ever be able to move again, she was so sad. Once she began to cry...

Ned's large, warm palm stroked down and back up her back, his fingertips tracing her spine. "You're mine," he whispered, and at that, the aching lump of tears in her throat became almost unbearable. "And I'm yours, honey. I always will be. I feel like I'm going to die tonight. I don't know how I'm going to let you go tomorrow."

She drew a trembling breath and began to cry. "How did we ever do this?" she whispered, her voice cracked. "My heart's breaking. Oh my God."

He nuzzled against her. "We'll be together soon," he whispered. "If you're hurt this time... I'll kill whoever hurt you. I'll bring you home and give you whatever you want. When you're here... of course I'll give you the world. I'll give you everything you want. And when you can't stay away anymore, I'll be here waiting for you. Because you're my wife. This is where you belong. Whenever you're ready."

"We're so close," she whispered. "When it was going to be years... it was easier, somehow." She reached up and wiped her wet cheeks. "We're really close to the end, and then I'll be with you. We can stop just making memories."

He moved onto his back and held her tight. "That's all we do," he whispered. "That's all we will do. The memory of our wedding night, our legal wedding night, after everyone knows. The memory of our second wedding day. Carrying you over this threshold, for the first time. The first lazy Saturday together, making pancakes and reading headlines to each other, falling asleep on the couch together watching a movie. Going to a party together and showing off my gorgeous, incredibly brave wife."

She moved to look into his face and gave him a small smile. "How do you know I'm brave?" she murmured, stroking a fingertip down his cheek to his jaw. "I haven't been able to tell you anything I've done in the past few years."

"Do you think I don't see the scars?" he whispered, searching her eyes. His own were serious. "Maybe you can't tell me what's happened, but you can't hide those."

She touched the tip of her nose to his. She knew they wouldn't have sex tonight—she didn't like the idea, and she thought Ned wouldn't either—but being so close to him still left her lazily aroused, sweetly affectionate. "I'll tell you everything, once I'm back," she murmured. "But I can't talk about it right now. I..."

He stroked her back again, waiting for her to continue. When she didn't, he gave her a small smile.

"I know it's been hard for you too."

"It's definitely been hard for you."

She smirked at the double entendre, shifting on top of him. His body was definitely responding to their proximity. "Be serious," she replied softly.

"I am. And yeah, it's been hard. But it's worth it."

She gave him a glowing smile. "You're so sweet."

He stroked her hair, his gaze flicking between her eyes and her lips. "I'm not," he whispered. "I know you don't want to have sex tonight, but can we... maybe do what we used to do, before?"

She flushed slightly. "Yes," she breathed. "If you're not... it might be messy."

"Are you hurting?"

"A little," she admitted. "I'll be okay, though. But it's blood..."

He shook his head. "I can't imagine that," he murmured. "Going through that every month. It sounds awful."

"It can be. I... I'm sorry. We don't have to. I can just..."

She slid off him, guiding her hand down, and his lashes fluttered down as she began to stroke him. Despite her reluctance, she was warmed by the contact. She loved seeing the expression of pleasure on his face. "When I'm back we'll spend a whole day in bed," she murmured. "Making love and eating delivery food and making love again."

"Before we're married again?" Ned had opened his eyes and was gazing at her, his lips parted. "God, that feels so good, baby."

She smiled. "You're my husband," she said. "I want to feel you on top of me, loving me. No condom. Did you like it?"

He nodded, reaching for her. "It felt incredible," he told her. "You're incredible, honey. So perfect. Oh, _God_..."

She smiled. "I love making you feel good," she said. "Mmm..."

Ned was panting as she cleaned up after him. She perched at the edge of the mattress, looking down at him, his handsome, muscular, naked body. Then her smile began to waver.

He reached up for her. "No, shhh," he murmured. "Shhh. Come here, sweetheart. It's going to be all right. I just want to hold you..."

She started to cry again as she moved into his arms. "Ned," she whispered. "Oh my God."

"Shhhh." He stroked her hair, holding her tight. "Shhhh. We're gonna be okay. I don't know how, but we're gonna be okay. I love you."

"I love you too." She sniffled. "You know that, don't you? Even when I'm thousands of miles away, I'm always thinking about you. I want to go to parties with you and see your friends and just be with you. I want pancakes and lazy Saturdays. I want football games at Emerson and lunch with your mom and writing my name as _Mrs. Ned Nickerson._ "

"And coming home at the end of the day?" He stroked her back. "When you tell me about your job. There are no words for how much I want you here, but I don't want you to be miserable. I don't want you to regret staying here. To think about what might have been..."

She kissed his shoulder. "I love my job," she told him. "But I'm lonely. I want to be with you. It's not like I can't help people here too. I can be around you and my dad and Bess and George, and the people I love. I can—" her voice broke. "I can have a family again."

"Oh, honey."

"I don't want to let you go."

"I don't want to let you go either."

She knew that she drifted off a few times, but for almost the entire night, she held him, breathing him in, locking this into her memory. For the next few months she would be someone else. She couldn't carry this baggage, so she would lock it deep inside her and keep it for when she had the time and strength to be vulnerable.

Ned was her vulnerability. The people she loved were her Achilles heel. She knew other agents who were able to leave for years; they made other agents their family. She had never been able to do that, and had never tried. Her family was home waiting for her. Her life was home waiting for her.

Her life was here, and she was voluntarily walking away from it. One last time. Just one last time. And she would come back to him, and when they were ready, they would be truly married, married for everyone.

Nothing could separate them, though. He was her husband. And as soon as she came back, she would savor knowing that so few miles separated them, that on late nights and weekends she could sneak over to their house and luxuriate in being his wife again for a while. Their life wouldn't be a string of private dates, kept unobserved and undocumented for fear her love might cause him pain.

His lips found hers in the dark, and they kissed and kissed, slow and sweet. He stroked and caressed her, until she felt like losing contact with him would mean her heart would no longer beat.

She was overwhelmed by sorrow and need, and the echo of her loneliness, and Ned slid his hand beneath the band of her panties and caressed her ass. She gasped against his kiss, tears in her eyes.

"Is it okay?" he whispered. "I—I'll stop if you want, but I..."

"Yes," she gasped, pushing herself up a little, straddling his hips.

They had never done this, and he took it slow, kissing her, caressing her. Her nipples were already hard-peaked, and incredibly sensitive, as he fondled them. He slicked lube over his fingers before sliding them between her thighs, stroking and caressing her clit until she was sobbing, her hips bucking. As her inner flesh began to pulse with her orgasm, she cried out, nuzzling against him. Then the pulsing turned into cramps, and she whimpered at the pain, her hips sinking down again. "Stop," she whispered.

"Are you okay?"

"It was good." She stifled a pained gasp. "It's just—turned into cramping..."

"Oh..." Ned sat up, holding her and stroking her back, and she slumped against him, moaning softly. She was relaxed and soft, despite the hard knot of pulsing ache in her womb, and her nose was stuffed up, and her heart was broken. And he had just made her come.

"I'm sorry, sweetheart. I didn't mean for it to hurt."

"It didn't..." She stroked his shoulder blades. "It was good, honey. It was. Thank you."

"I hate to see you in pain."

"Mmm." She moved back and looked into his eyes. "It's okay. It's passed. I love you."

She pulled a tissue out of the box for him, and after he had wiped his fingers, they laid back down again. Ned made sure the covers were pulled up to their chins, and she cuddled against him.

_It hurts because I love him this much._

That didn't make it feel better, but as she silently cried, Ned's hand stroking up and down her back, she comforted herself with the thought that this separation wouldn't be too long. This was likely the last time they would ever say goodbye to each other.

If she just didn't go back...

That wasn't an option, but the crushing, visceral _need_ she felt wanted to override that. It wasn't in her nature to walk away, but for him... for him, she almost would.

In the morning they showered together, the sleet pinging against the windows, shivering before they wrapped themselves in thick, fluffy bath towels. She dressed in a warm forest-green cowlneck sweater, dark jeans and boots, her hair falling in tousled reddish-gold waves. Ned was sitting on the bed, and he rose when she crossed to him. Neither of them could smile. It was just too close.

"Don't go," he whispered. "Stay here a little while longer. The roads are bad. I don't want you to get hurt."

"I—" _I've been in far more dangerous situations_ , she wanted to say, but that wasn't what he meant and she knew it. They just needed more time, but they would never have enough. A hundred years wouldn't be enough. Her lower lip trembled as she searched his gaze. "I don't want to go either," she whispered.

He pulled her into his arms, and they clung to each other. His breathing was almost ragged, and his heart was pounding against hers. If she could have died from the grief, she would have.

"You'll be back soon," he whispered, almost to himself. "You'll be home soon. It won't be so long. Oh my God..."

She sniffled and began to cry in earnest. "I don't know how to do this again," she whispered. "It's so fucking hard. Oh my God. I feel like I'll die if I leave."

He kissed her temple, her cheek. "I think we both will," he whispered. "Until we see each other again, you'll have a part of me with you. And I'll keep a part of you here with me. I'll keep your heart safe. Just do that for me too."

She turned her head and kissed him deeply, over and over, pressed tight against him. "I hate to see you in pain, too," she whispered after she broke the kiss, searching his sweet dark eyes. "I hate that I'm hurting you."

He shook his head. "You aren't," he said. "You're doing what makes you happy. That hasn't changed. It's just a little while longer." He finally gave her a small smile. "And if you change your mind, then next time I'll just hide myself in your luggage and we'll figure out a cover identity."

She knew that was impossible, but just the thought made her weak in the knees. "You deserve more than a cover identity," she whispered. "But the thought is so tempting. My husband."

He leaned down and gave her a long, sweet kiss. "My wife," he whispered against her lips. "Forever. No matter what."

She lingered there as long as she could, as long as she dared; the weather was a good excuse, but they both knew that her resolve was weakening. She had to leave while she still had any strength left, and every second that passed made her feel, impossibly, even more miserable. She couldn't make herself move, though. It was hard enough to even breathe.

When she finally forced herself to stand, she began to sob, reaching for him and holding him tight. She could hear the hitches in his breathing too. "You are my only," she whispered through her tears. "For all my life. You have my heart and all my love. And when I come back to you this time, it will be for good, so we can start our life together."

He kissed her neck, her cheek. When she touched his cheek and he gazed into her eyes, she could see that his were wet. "Come back to me soon," he whispered. "It's so hard to live without my heart. It's so hard to sleep alone. I love you so much."

They kissed again, holding each other tight. "I have to go," she whispered, tears still sliding down her cheeks. "I'm so sorry."

He shook his head. "Me too," he whispered. "But you'll be back soon."

His lips were trembling.

She kissed him again, hard. "I love you."

"I will always love you."


	4. Chapter 4

Ned closed his eyes and rolled onto his other side, the covers pulled up over his shoulder.

He had dreamed of his wife, and he didn't want to let it go just yet.

He imagined her beside him in bed, eyes closed, defenseless and relaxed. He imagined her reddish-gold hair spread on the pillow, a tantalizing glimpse of naked flesh above the covers. Sapphire-blue eyes, lashes drifting slowly upward and fluttering as she woke, as she smiled at him. He imagined the warmth of her bare skin under the cup of his palm, the curve of her hip, the contented purr that would become a moan as he trailed his fingertips over sensitive flesh.

He hadn't seen Nancy in over three months, and though she had said she would be back soon... he couldn't bring himself to hope. It hurt too much, to wake every morning aching for her, to sink into a depression when he pulled the covers up over him and tried to sleep. He craved her; he needed her, and he knew it. And because he needed her, he knew he had to let her do what she loved. Even if it meant they couldn't be together.

His idle fantasy, in those few minutes left before his alarm went off, wouldn't soothe him. But he rolled onto his back, imagining her perched over him, the tips of her hair brushing his cheek, a grin on her beautiful face as she touched the tip of her nose to his. He imagined the sweet weight of her breasts pressed against his chest, her warm breath against his neck, her knees parted wide on either side of his hips—

His phone went off in warning, five minutes before his clock radio was set to go off, and Ned groaned. The shortest time between her visits had been eight months; the longest had been fourteen. That one had almost killed him. He could have almost another year of lonely nights ahead of him; he just didn't know.

Spring had officially arrived, but Chicago was still cold. Once he was awake and shivering in the bathroom, he swiftly began to prepare for work. At night he spent his time working on the house, making sure everything was perfect for her eventual return. The bathroom renovation was nearly complete, save a few finishing touches. Once he ran out of minor improvements, he wasn't sure how he would cope with the small hours.

After a quick breakfast, he went out on the small back deck and poured a cup of cat food into a ceramic dish. The sleek gray cat who had been hanging around his backyard since soon after Ned had moved in peeked around the side of the house, then jumped up onto the small porch. Ned had built a small insulated, weather-resistant home for the cat to use when Chicago had been freezing, blanketed in snow and ice, but the weather was finally marginally better. He directed a small smile at the cat, who never acknowledged Ned's presence outside petulantly meowing for food, and headed back inside.

The Christmas decorations that had been displayed all over the house were in storage now, and Ned knew it was irrational, but he associated them with Nancy. It felt superstitious, to think that she would only come again once the Christmas tree was set up by the window, glowing with soft white lights, once the stockings were hung over the mantel, once the house smelled like pine and cinnamon again. Oh, oh God, he wanted her back so much.

But he took that longing and that need and put it back into the well-worn box he kept it in for most of the day. He couldn't risk mentioning her name in an unguarded moment, or letting his thoughts wander to her. As far as everyone around him was concerned, his wife was barely better than a figment of his imagination.

His wife. Before he opened the front door, Ned touched the ring hanging on the chain around his neck, the circle unyielding against his breastbone.

He heard the soft hush of a broom against brick as he keyed the deadbolt, then pressed the button on his key fob to activate the alarm system. He glanced over and saw a woman in a dark-pink quilted coat, a knit cap pulled low over curly white hair. She gave him a little wave with a mittened hand, then returned to sweeping the porch.

A chill breathed across Ned's shoulder blades as he turned and headed down the front steps, the answering smile fading from his lips.

Something was wrong.

Ned hadn't felt that since he had been helping Nancy with cases; it had been years. It was still unmistakable. That sixth sense was tingling.

He very much wanted to glance back at the woman, but he fought the urge, even though the nape of his neck prickled with awareness.

On the way to work, once he was on the train, Ned seated his earbuds in his ears and studied the commuters around him. His arm was draped over the messenger bag Nancy had given him for Christmas; he had carried it to work every day. It made him feel connected to her.

_Okay. An older woman is sweeping her porch and suddenly you've decided that... what?_

He was missing Nancy too much, seeing mysteries where there were none. He hadn't met all of his neighbors yet, but he had met some of them. A couple in their late forties lived next door, where the woman had been sweeping, but she wasn't one of them. Maybe she was doing some housework for them. Maybe she was a guest who had some energy to burn.

After Ned was satisfied that none of the other passengers on the train were paying him any attention, he let his eyes drift closed. What about her had made the hair on the back of his neck stand up?

_She wasn't old._

A breath of ice touched his skin again, and Ned's eyes popped open. She hadn't been old. Her posture, the white hair, the slow movements—but her face hadn't been wrinkled. Not at all.

_Which means what? Someone's spying on me?_

Nancy had been gone for so long that Ned wasn't terribly concerned about what she was doing, because he couldn't be. He had no idea of where she was or what she was doing, and that's exactly what she had wanted. To him, it didn't exist until she returned, until his fingertips traced the pale raised edge of healed scars and wounds.

Of course he was deeply, terribly aware that every second she was on assignment, she was in danger. But he didn't doubt that she was the smartest, most clever and skilled detective he had ever known, or ever would. If anyone could handle being an agent for CIA, she could.

If they were trying to find her, they were months too late. But maybe she had finished up her last assignment and was on the way home to him, and they were waiting to intercept her.

Ned's heart began to thump faster at the thought, and he forced himself to consider it. Would it make sense? If Nancy was out of CIA, he didn't know why anyone would be waiting to intercept her. It felt sinister. Of course she would still have some secrets locked inside her brilliant mind, but those secrets would likely become more defunct with each passing day. Not to mention that Nancy would spot someone spying so obviously on his place, and would deal with it far more ruthlessly and decisively than Ned would.

Or the woman he had seen just looked much younger than her actual age, and there was a perfectly innocent explanation, and he was just missing Nancy so much that he was practically inventing a mystery. As though she would sense it and come home.

Ned rubbed his index finger and thumb together, wishing that he could rub his thumb against his ring finger, wishing that he could put his ring on and answer the inevitable questions, while glowing with pride.

It was nothing. It had to be nothing.

Even so, he checked carefully around him as he stepped into the flow of commuters heading toward tall commercial buildings. Despite the chilling breeze, the sky was blue and nearly cloudless, and the sunlight was faintly warm on his face. He didn't see anyone following him, suspiciously fixing a gaze on an unfolded newspaper as he passed by, anything like that. Three taxis were pulled up in front of Ned's workplace, when he reached it; one pulled away, and a sleek Lincoln pulled in.

Ned hunched forward a little, his gaze set on his building and the promise of warmth inside. He had a lot of work to do before the weekend, and he didn't intend to waste any time. Nancy would be proud of being married to a vice president, that was for sure. He would be able to support them both on his salary, while she figured out what her life would be after leaving CIA.

A summer wedding, in this cold, seemed blissful and improbable. In a way, though, it didn't matter. They were already married. Another ceremony would mean a lot to him, being able to share the day with his parents and their friends, but that first ceremony, the hope and joy in her eyes as she spoke her vows to him, would always hold a place in his heart.

"Mr. Nickerson."

Immediately, Ned's heart sped up, and his hand tightened into a fist again. He glanced over to see a dark-haired woman near the Lincoln, dressed in a heavy winter coat. She didn't wear three-inch heels or stockings with a skirt; she wore dark pants, heavy flat-soled boots. Her eyes were sharp.

"You need to come with me." She swung the back door of the car open, gesturing him inside. He couldn't clearly see the interior.

"For what? What's this about?"

No. That sense of alarm hadn't been mistaken, no more mistaken than it felt now. He couldn't even feel the cold against his throat.

"She's been hurt. We'll take you to her."

"Who has?" God, Ned couldn't count the number of times criminals had tried this trick on Nancy, on her friends and family. Carson Drew, Ned remembered, had even fallen for it a few times. In that moment, just after reason reasserted itself, once he had taken a step toward the car, he completely understood. If Nancy was hurt, Ned wouldn't want to spend time arguing or doubting it. He would want to be with her, by her side.

The woman just gazed straight at him, and her lips pursed in annoyance. "You know who," she said. "Please. She's asking for you."

For a moment, Ned couldn't make himself move. He thought of his wife, bleeding or hurting, upset, pain dulling her beautiful blue eyes. Asking for him, knowing that he would protect her.

"I don't believe you," he said, and he had to force the words out. He set his jaw. He would protect Nancy to his last breath, and he wasn't going to stop now. "I'm going to call my mother now. Thank you for letting me know, if something is wrong with her."

A tall, burly man wrapped in a dark-brown coat slid out of the other rear door and began to walk around the car. The woman shouted something at Ned as he retreated, but he couldn't make out what it was. He rushed into his building, fumbling for his cell phone.

The large, polished receptionist desk was shaped like a horseshoe. An administrative assistant smiled at Ned as he approached. The security guard beside him, wearing a white button-down and a radio, was gazing at the bank of monitors. Ned considered stopping, and glanced at the mirror-smooth marble wall behind the receptionist desk. He didn't see anyone walking in behind him.

Crossing his fingers mentally, Ned strode toward the elevator, his mind racing. If something was wrong with his mother, his father would call. If the people outside trying to lure him into their car _had_ Nancy, they wouldn't have tried to capture him that way.

Ned looked down as soon as he boarded the elevator car, but he knew that the cameras were watching. He casually brushed his hand over his messenger bag after taking his gloves off. They would come in after him. He knew that. He needed to get out and find somewhere safe.

More than that, he needed to make sure Nancy was safe, without putting her in danger.

Ned left the elevator on the floor beneath his, went down three flights of stairs, and walked into a set of vacant offices. The whole time, he had been searching the pocket in his messenger bag with his fingertips. But he didn't need to find the note. He knew what it said by heart.

He pulled out his cell phone and carefully dialed each number. His heart was pounding as he brought the phone to his ear.

After four rings, the call clicked over to voicemail. "Leave a message," he heard, in a generic feminine computerized voice. Then a chirp.

Ned cleared his throat, and recited the code he had been given, trying to make each word distinct. It was hard. He was so keyed up that his hands were practically shaking. "Please call me back as soon as you can."

He wasn't calling from a secured line. He didn't have that capability. Ned couldn't help wondering if the number would even work, if any of this would do any good.

Until the woman had asked him to get in the car, he had been close to convincing himself that he had been overreacting.

He was sitting on a visitor's chair left behind by the previous tenants, considering what to do, when his cell phone rang. He swore when he fumbled it in surprise, then quickly answered it. The number was one he didn't recognize; it wasn't his father calling to tell him that his mother really _had_ been hurt in an accident.

"One, two, or three?"

Ned was so keyed up that it took him a few seconds to even understand the voice. Then he had to parse what it meant. "T-two," he stammered out.

"A, B, or C?"

He was more prepared that time. "C," he replied.

"Ready."

Once he hung up the phone, his heart still pounding, Ned hung his head and concentrated on slowing his breathing. He had to focus. He had to find a way out of the building. With any luck, this would be finished in a few hours and he could return to work.

He called his workplace next, telling the receptionist he felt like he was coming down with stomach flu, but would try to make it in during the afternoon. Then he licked his lips and took off his cap, smoothing his hair. He had to be careful.

God, he wished he could call Nancy.

The front entrance would be under surveillance. The only other entrance he knew was the parking deck.

He glanced down at his clothes. If he changed and blended into a group, maybe he could get past anyone waiting for him. He knew it was a slim chance, but it was the only chance he had.

He used the time until lunch to find a maintenance jumpsuit, and an unused trash bag to hold his coat and his messenger bag. They might spot him by either one. He sorted through a couple of open lockers in the basement and found a well-worn quilted jacket, the cuffs beginning to fray, and winced as he put it on. He'd make sure it found its way back to the locker once this was over.

When lunch arrived, Ned made his way to the elevator. The knit cap he had found was pulled low, the collar of his coat turned up. The coat smelled like tobacco and sharp aftershave. He shuffled, keeping his gaze on his watch like he was late for something. As desperately as he wanted to, he didn't risk a glance around. If he made eye contact with anyone who was waiting for him, he didn't want to know what would happen. Especially not with the messenger bag stuffed into the trash bag.

Once he was on a train, Ned put his earbuds back in and casually glanced around the car. The other passengers were on their way to lunch dates, to tourist destinations, to anywhere in the city. Ned had used Chicago's transportation enough to be familiar with most of the destinations, although he had paused when walking into the station to check the map and make sure he was headed to the right place.

The address he had memorized, but had never seen, pointed him to an old apartment building. The landscaping was nonexistent, and the place looked like it hadn't been thoroughly cleaned or well-maintained in quite some time. Several of the buzzer buttons were cracked or stripped of their covers. A slender metal waste bin was overflowing with cigarette butts. He walked past the place, keeping an eye on the traffic around him. When he was relatively sure he hadn't been followed, he came back and pressed the button for the appropriate apartment three times. Then the apartment's main door clicked.

That impression of age and shabbiness didn't abate inside. The stairs were scuffed, the treads worn by infinite climbs up and down. He was unsurprised to see a handwritten OUT OF SERVICE sign hanging from the elevator's call button. Some of the mailboxes just inside the door were cracked or plastered with handwritten notes. Nothing about it looked safe or secure, or even appealing. He was a little surprised that the place didn't stink of marijuana or rotting garbage.

He made his way upstairs, keeping his steps slow despite his anxiety, waiting for the apartment house's front door to creak open behind him, but it didn't. His stomach had been clenched for what felt like hours, and he was afraid to relax, but the adrenaline had left him exhausted.

He knocked three times on what he hoped was the right door, glancing back at the stairs, but no one seemed to be following him. On the floor below, a door slammed. He heard a siren nearby.

The door opened. A man with steel-gray hair stood there, and he took Ned in with a glance. Ned swept off the knit cap and smoothed down his hair.

The man stood back, but not quite enough to allow Ned entrance. "Followed?"

"Don't think so," he said. "I haven't seen anyone."

The apartment was small, the furniture worn, but it looked relatively clean. "Have a seat," he said, gesturing for Ned to sit down on the aqua-upholstered couch.

Ned sank onto the cushions. "Thanks for doing this," he said.

The man's only response was a momentary tightening of his lips. "Tell me exactly what happened."

Ned started with the Lincoln and the woman who had tried to lure him into it. The man took him through the description of both the woman and the man in the brown coat twice. Then Ned sighed. "This may not have anything to do with it, but..."

"Go on."

Ned told him about the woman he had seen as he had been leaving for work. "I'm just wondering whether she's there, in case—in case she might spot Nancy there."

The gray-haired man gazed steadily at Ned. "And why would that be," he said, his voice quiet and dangerous, deliberate.

Ned's fingers clenched into a fist, but he shook his head. "I'm not sure," he said. "Unless she's on the way back right now."

"You know I can't tell you that."

Ned caught himself rubbing his thumb against the base of his ring finger. "Maybe they think she is," he suggested.

The man studied Ned again, then reached for his pocket and took out a cell phone that was buzzing in his palm. He read the screen, and no flicker of any emotion crossed his face. Ned was both impressed and a little awed. He put the phone back down beside him and steepled his fingers.

"I need you to stay here. The kitchen is stocked. You are _absolutely not_ to call or contact anyone, email anyone, anything. Turn your phone off, if you still have it with you. A prepay is charging in the bedroom, and the only number in it is mine. We're going to check into this, and if it's nothing, you'll be on your way home in a few hours."

Ned nodded, his mouth going dry. If the man was taking him at all seriously, then they were worried about the same thing Ned was. And staying here, knowing that if the bad guys couldn't abduct him they would try something else... God, he felt like he was about to fly apart, full of an awful anxiety. He wanted to do something to keep her safe.

The only thing he could do was stay safe, because if something happened to him, he knew that she would be upset. He needed to stay safe to help keep his wife safe.

That didn't mean he liked it.

After the man had left—Ned realized belatedly that he didn't even know the man's name—Ned prowled through the apartment, checking things out. Towels and hotel toiletries in the small bathroom. Two age-stiffened magazines had been laid on the tank. The bed was made, and beside it stood a two-shelf bookcase crammed with well-thumbed paperbacks: a few children's story books, romance novels, action novels, modern literature. This wasn't a place for people to live; it was a halfway house of sorts.

He wasn't exactly surprised to discover that the television set only received channels through the digital antenna box propped in the window, but he was disappointed. He was seated on the couch, flipping through the laughably limited selection, when he heard a key in the deadbolt. He stood, clenching his hand into a fist as he faced the door.

Carson Drew walked in, and Ned's mouth dropped open. The older man's right temple was discolored, and his lips were set in a tight line. The man Ned had met earlier was ushering him in.

"Looks like you'll be here a while," he sighed.

\--

Nancy hitched her purse higher on her shoulder, giving the security guard a little wave as she headed out. The pavement outside was gleaming from a late-afternoon storm, and a wave of cabs had turned the air almost metallic with exhaust. Though the clouds overhead hinted at an encore performance, Nancy paused for only a few seconds before she began to walk toward the embassy housing. Her low heels occasionally slipped down prematurely and slapped against the pavement, though she kept her toes curled. She was going to need to buy a new pair before the end of this assignment, damn it. She kept trying to put it off, but it was unavoidable.

It was too close. Her stomach did flips when she thought about it. Whenever she knew that she was close to the end of an assignment and close to seeing Ned and her family and friends again—oh, she had dreaded it, because it meant both coming up for air and submerging herself again. Now, when she went home, she would be going home for good.

She put it out of her mind. It wouldn't be so long, and she would drive herself crazy, would make herself slip, if she allowed herself even this momentary indulgence.

She stopped in for some take-out on the way back, and her feet were aching as she walked into the lobby of the apartment house. The receptionist gestured her over, and after hunting through a few wire racks, she produced a manila envelope and handed it to Nancy. Her cover identity's name had been laser-printed onto a self-adhesive label.

That was unusual in itself. Apparently it had been hand-delivered, but the receptionist had no idea about who had done so. Nancy cast a surreptitious glance at the small surveillance camera mounted above the desk. She had a feeling that it wouldn't reveal anything, but it couldn't hurt.

She no longer ignored her instincts; she couldn't afford to, and they had saved her more times than she could count. Making a mistake here could mean life or death.

Nancy and two other attachés lived on the second floor of the apartment house, in neighboring units. They were agents too, and all three of them had prepped for this assignment back in December before they had shipped out to join the rest of the team. Kimiko's diminutive frame and easy laugh lulled targets into a false sense of security; they hadn't seen her use a gun like it was a natural extension of her hand, and the few times Nancy had seen her during a true crisis, Kimiko made quick, intelligent decisions, working to protect the team and the intelligence they had collected. Gunnar, Nancy's other neighbor, was even a little taller than Ned, with white-blond hair, a ruddy complexion, and pale blue eyes. The dimple in his cheek would have made Bess's eyes gleam, but Nancy valued his unflappable demeanor and his effortless innovation. No matter what they needed, Gunnar could find a way to achieve it.

Nancy had worked with several agents during her career, and her current team was as near perfect as she could ever expect. They looked out for each other, and though they were completely faithful to their cover identities, knowing that someone else was aware of her actual identity helped Nancy not feel quite so much like she was going crazy.

She left the bag of takeout on the kitchen counter as she opened the manila envelope, sliding out the two sheets of paper she found inside.

Ten seconds later, her face white and eyes bright with rage, Nancy ran to the messenger bag she usually kept in the closet. She snarled a curse as she found the flap allowing her access to the backup phone, then raced up to the roof, unmindful of the pain that was practically making her feet numb.

"Epsilon seven-two omega delta delta zero," she barked into the phone once the call connected, her heart hammering. She ran her fingers through her hair, the adrenaline coursing through her making her hand shake.

"Go ahead."

"What the _fuck_ is going on?" she demanded, her voice vibrating with fury. "What happened?"

"What do you—"

"I just. Received. A picture of my—" She almost slipped and said "husband," and she flushed in anger and frustration. "My father and my ex-boyfriend, clearly in someone's custody, and a demand. Are they safe?"

"Please hold."

She was horrified when tears rose in her eyes, and the longer she had to wait, the more convinced she was that this wasn't fake, wasn't a bluff to get her to put herself at risk. Ned and her father were in danger, and someone had them. She kicked off her useless heels and paced the roof, one arm wrapped around her waist, the other pressing the phone tight against her ear.

The utter silence was relieved by a click, then a breath. "The subjects were both conducted to an intermediate safe house yesterday," the calm voice informed her. For a second, just barely, she began to relax. "Security was breached around midnight. We're looking."

Nancy gasped in a breath. She had put him in danger. She had put _both of them_ in danger. Intellectually she knew that wasn't true, but her heart was broken. If anything happened to them, if anything _else_ happened to them... "I'm coming," she said.

"Your assignment—"

"Is almost done. They can finish without me. I'm coming."

\--

Ned had to admit this about their captors: they weren't in it to make him or Carson uncomfortable.

They also made no attempt to hide their faces, and Ned was a little worried about what that meant. Either their identities were known, or he and Carson weren't supposed to live through this little adventure.

The room had been well-prepared. Sturdy chains were bolted to the floor, and the single shackle around Ned's ankle was snug and, so far, impervious to tampering. He had enough freedom of movement to sit against the wall, to cover himself with blankets and sleep on the thin mattress in the corner. What he lacked was anything metal he could use to try to pick the cuff or break the chain.

The _only_ thing Ned had that gave him any hope at all was the emergency distress transmitter. Nancy had included it among the other "surprises" she had left in his Christmas present, replacing ones she had given him before, but he knew all too well that it wasn't powerful, so it didn't have much range, and the battery would drain quickly if he were to use it constantly. He kept it tucked out of sight, and about once an hour, while he was awake, he pressed the transmitter three times, just in case. Just in case anyone was trying to find him and knew about it.

Carson was clearly exhausted, but he was alert. The bruise on his temple had darkened, and his hair was rumpled. He sat at the foot of his own mattress, his gaze making a slow circuit of their prison, just in case he had missed anything. From the other room, Ned could hear their captors murmuring to each other, the occasional bleat of a cell phone's ringtone, but not enough to figure out who had decided to use them to hurt Nancy.

There could be no other reason. Both of them knew that.

The heavy curtain tacked over the window was bright. Ned wanted to hope they were still fairly close to Chicago, maybe even still in Illinois, but he had no idea; he had been sedated during the trip and had returned to consciousness to find himself shackled. He just felt sure that the larger the radius, the less likely they were to be found.

After draining the last few drops of water from the bottle he had been given for breakfast, Ned sighed and recapped it, placing it on the floor beside the crumpled wrapper of a cereal bar. Yesterday they had been given four bottles of water, three meager but regular meals, bathroom breaks, even supplies for a shower and to brush their teeth. No razor, though, which didn't surprise him. He rubbed the heel of his hand against the stubble lining his jaw, and sighed.

It felt more than infuriating to just wait to be rescued, and given how disinterested his contact had been when he had visited the safe house—Ned snorted quietly at the disappointment that whole experience had been—he didn't have that much confidence that their rescue would happen anytime soon. The alternative, though, was unthinkable, that Nancy might be forced to compromise herself in some way to guarantee their safety.

Carson had inspected the chain at least twice before, but he began to study each link, hoping for some weakness, some way he could break through. Ned decided he would do the same thing soon, but God, he had worried the links like he was telling some perpetual rosary. In the other room, a fist smacked against wood, and both Ned and Carson jumped slightly.

Once his heart had slowed down a little, Ned pulled the transmitter from its hiding place and, keeping it shielded from the view of anyone who might look in from the doorway, depressed the tiny button three times. It looked like a penlight, but the button to engage the transmitter was a tiny indentation near the bulb. Anyone who activated the light would see a weak glow, nothing more. 

When Ned looked up, the chain was still in Carson's hands, but he was gazing directly at the transmitter.

Ned flushed immediately. It wasn't that he didn't trust Nancy's father; he had trusted Carson with his life, more than once. But that had been before. Things were different now.

He took a deep breath, slowly hiding the transmitter again, as Carson brought his gaze up and looked into Ned's eyes. "I haven't been entirely honest with you," Ned said. He didn't whisper, but he did keep his voice down. What he was about to say wouldn't be a surprise to their captors, but he hadn't liked lying to his unsuspecting father-in-law. "I don't think they took me because Nancy and I used to date. I... somehow they found out that we were still together."

Carson's eyebrows flickered up once, but he kept gazing steadily at Ned's face.

Ned ran his fingers through his hair. "When she took this job, we knew that she would be on assignment for months at a time. Years, practically. She told me that if I wanted, we would just break up; that way if I found someone else, I would be free to pursue that. But neither of us wanted that. So we decided that we'd stay together. We're able to send each other messages, sometimes, and whenever she comes home, we see each other."

"Over Christmas." Carson wasn't asking.

"Yeah. She came over to my place. And I'm guessing that we just... we just weren't careful enough. Maybe they've been watching the whole time, or maybe they were watching everything she did over Christmas. I just... I couldn't let her go. And I— _hate_ that they're using us to get to her."

"Worse," Carson commented. Though his voice was quiet, Ned could hear the edge in it. "They have both of us. Both their bases covered. Her father and the man she clearly still loves, and always has."

Ned dropped his gaze, his throat thickening. In a way, it was more than that—but in a way, it was no more than that and never would be. He loved her more than he could possibly ever express. He just prayed that she was safe, that she was blissfully unaware of the situation they were in, that the disinterested contact he had made to find the safe house would drum up enough enthusiasm to find them. That by the time she came home, this would be a funny story for them to share with her.

"I saw the two of you at the dance. Anyone who saw the two of you in that room would have known."

Ned was horrified when he sniffled. He alternated between despair, panic, and numb exhaustion. Despite all the time he had spent lying on the mattress the night before, he felt utterly exhausted now. Counting each day without her had been its own private hell, but this was something else. All he could do here was worry about her safety; he had nothing else to distract him, besides trying to find a way out. "We couldn't stop ourselves," he murmured. "It had just been so long, and staying away from each other was so hard."

"I can imagine," Carson replied. "And I suppose I should be thankful. If you hadn't, I'd be bored to tears right now, waiting for something to happen."

Ned smiled at the other man. "Some silver lining, huh."

As far as he could tell, it was late that afternoon, after lunch of a single peanut butter sandwich and a granola bar with the requisite water. The mood in the other room had seemed to calm down, although Ned had been able to pick up the sound of one of them patrolling the perimeter. Then Ned heard a few muffled shouts that had to be profanity.

A balding man, average height, broad-shouldered and built like a linebacker, slammed the door to Ned and Carson's designated cell open, so hard that it rebounded against the wall. He cleared the room, and the large gun in his hands claimed all of Ned's attention. He stopped breathing during the few seconds it was pointed directly at him.

"Up," he ordered, and Ned and Carson both rose, staggering a little. The short length of their chains meant they hadn't seen much exercise since they had been bound. Ned even felt a little lightheaded. A woman with short dark hair, muscular and unsmiling, expertly fitted zip-tie cuffs around their wrists. Then she and another man unfastened the chained fetters and hustled Carson and Ned into the main room, while the balding man kept the gun trained on them. Given the number of guns and the general heightened mood in the room, Ned was afraid to try anything, especially with his wrists secured behind him.

"Hatch," a tall man grunted. Ned thought he might have been the man in the brown coat who had approached him outside his workplace. He didn't see the woman.

Ned and Carson were manhandled into an unfinished basement, so unfinished that he thought it might even be the crawlspace of the house. The balding man stayed with them while Ned heard the people upstairs plotting strategy. Another woman, her mouth set in a grim line, held a gun trained on two bound teenagers. Ned's eyes widened when he saw them. He'd had no idea there were other captives nearby.

Someone was coming to find them. It made Ned's heart rise almost painfully. He just wished that the bad guys hadn't figured it out first.

\--

As soon as the listening device was in place, Nancy nodded grimly. They had found the place.

Security cameras outside Ned's workplace had picked up footage showing his attempted kidnapping. Security measures in place at the safe house had helped narrow down who might be responsible. The search had taken too long, and Nancy had been terrified the entire time that she was, that she would be, too late. The only sleep she had managed had been fitful and on the plane ride over, since she hadn't been able to do anything else useful and she had known she would need it. She was functioning on pure adrenaline, and she was desperate. If they were hurt...

Ned had managed to keep the distress-signal transmitter she had left for him, and as of an hour ago, they believed that he had still been alive. That signal had drawn them to this area.

One plan had involved Nancy turning over some version of the information the kidnappers demanded in an attempt to force a trade, but Nancy had no faith that would work, and she couldn't wait that long. Once they had the information, the kidnappers might decide that they couldn't risk releasing their captives unharmed. For as long as they had something to trade, she had the slimmest hope.

Agents had confirmed that Nancy's stepmother, Avery, hadn't seen or heard from Carson since the day he and Ned had been stolen from the safe house. Ned's house was empty, the air stale thanks to his absence. She hadn't been able to go there herself. She couldn't slow down, and she had a feeling that walking through those doors and remembering the last time they had been there together might just destroy her.

Now the kidnappers were getting restless, barking orders. At least three of them sounded American. The security measures made her even more certain that her husband and father were here.

Kimiko fluttered her fingers, getting Nancy's attention without touching her, aware of how keyed up she was. _Lead?_

Nancy nodded. She was taking lead for the breach. Gunter was in the van, keeping his eyes on everything. _"All right,"_ Gunter said, speaking through their earpieces. The two men at Nancy's left, Len and Marc, were other agents she had worked with before, men who had been available when she had put out the call for backup. What they were doing was technically off the books; Nancy hadn't had the time to cut through the red tape and regulations required. Her boss would likely be able to reverse engineer permission for it all later, but right now she didn't care.

" _At least six inside. At least two captives."_

_At least?_ Nancy tilted her head. She glanced at Kimiko, then Len and Marc, gesturing with her fingers, and each nodded. They were good, but she was trusting them with Ned and her father's lives. She couldn't take anything for granted.

Nancy's team was wearing combat gear, Kevlar vests, as much protection as they could wear and still move around easily. Breach was quick, thanks to Marc's speed and expertise, and they plunged through the smoke, they evaluated and took down targets, using lethal force only when required, avoiding bullets and attacks as best they could. Len was struck in the leg; Nancy's adrenaline was so high that she didn't even feel the knife that found a joint in her armor and nicked her shoulder. It was a relief, to have an outlet for all her fear and anger, but it wasn't enough. Not until they were safe again.

"Clear." Kimiko helped Len out to the van, then raced back to Nancy's side. Nancy and Marc had cleared the other rooms in the small house. They found what were clearly cells, but the cells were empty.

None of them could say it, but Gunter finally did. " _Is it possible that they discovered the transmitter and hustled them out?_ "

Of course it was possible, but Nancy was still almost shivering with rage and adrenaline. She walked over to the group of bound, subdued kidnappers in the corner of the main room and approached one, a man sporting a buzz cut, a field bandage wrapped around his leg. Marc was working on another of the prisoners. If they had been alone, she didn't know what she would have done. She wasn't sure where she would have stopped.

"Where are they?"

He gave her a grin, though his eyes were glazed with pain. She noted a very quick flicker of his eyes before he replied. "You'll never find them. They're miles away by now."

Two additional vans had pulled up. Nancy's boss had finally come through, and she breathed a sigh of relief. "Take them out," she told Kimiko and Marc, just as three more armored agents came to the door, ready to help. If only they hadn't been too late.

As soon as the now-captive kidnappers had been taken to the vans and put in custody for questioning, Nancy stood in the main room and closed her eyes, breathing in the silence. Ned and her father had been here, and if they had known where their captors were taking them, they would have left a clue. But she didn't think that was what had happened.

She heard a faint scuffling, then a muffled cry.

Kimiko moved so quickly and quietly that Nancy herself could barely hear her. Together they made a beeline to a faded braided rug, where the man's gaze had flicked earlier. Nancy whisked it back, and they easily picked out the seam marking a hatch. Nancy checked her weapon, watching as Kimiko checked her own and then gave a silent count.

As soon as light hit the basement floor, a volley of bullets whizzed by. Nancy and Kimiko were both safely out of the way.

"We're here!" Ned's shout was cut off by a resounding smack and a grunt of pain.

Nancy released a shout of rage, and although she was quivering with the need to get down there and free them, she let Kimiko use the sound as distraction to cover her own entrance. Nancy waited the space of a few heartbeats before quickly following.

Four captives were on the floor, along with a balding man dressed the same way as the other kidnappers. He was scrabbling for his weapon. Nancy kicked it out of the way and smashed her own weapon into his already-bruised face, flushed and panting as she watched him sink unconscious to the floor. She was so angry that he had hurt Ned that stopping herself from hitting him again caused her physical pain. When she glanced over, Kimiko was zip-tying the other woman, binding both hands and feet. The man was simply passed out, but the female kidnapper was snarling profanity, bucking hard. Nancy came within a breath of pistol-whipping her and obeying the roaring demand of her rage, but instead she and Kimiko wrestled her into the zip-ties, making sure they were tight and secure. Then Kimiko headed toward the male captor to secure him too.

"Nancy."

Ned and her father were awake. They were bruised, disheveled, but alive.

From that second, Nancy saw no one else; she didn't care what Kimiko was doing. She gripped the knife tightly to make sure she didn't cut either of them as she severed the zip-ties, and then she was wrapped in their arms in the dim basement, gripping them both tight. Ned and her father were safe. They were okay.

"Sweetheart." Ned was stroking her hair, and her father was patting her back. They were breathing. Their hearts were beating. They were okay. Nancy was trembling, and she couldn't stand for a long time. Even so, as soon as she heard a noise at the basement hatch, she whirled, bringing her gun up, her brow furrowed. Anyone who threatened them wouldn't live.

Gunter held his hands up. Then he tapped his earpiece. Nancy had been so focused that she hadn't heard him talking to her or asking what was going on. "Everything okay?"

"Y—yeah. Thank you."

"Good."

Nancy turned back, glancing at her father and then Ned. "You're hurt," her father commented, gazing at her with concern.

Nancy shrugged it off. It didn't matter, as long as they were safe. "And you're hurt," she murmured to her father and then to Ned, cupping her husband's cheek, her voice trembling slightly. She could see an angry red mark on his face, where he had been struck. Punished for calling out to her. "Come on. Let's get you both checked out."

They were safe. Oh God, _oh God,_ they were safe.

\--

Carson's house was full of guests.

Ned's parents had known he was missing, since he generally talked to at least one of them every day. They had been invited over for the reunion, and his mother had clucked over his bruised face, the bruises he had been given when he had tried to attack the man holding them captive. Hannah had been crying when she hugged all three of them. Between Hannah and Edith, the kitchen and dining room had soon been overflowing with all the comfort foods Ned could possibly imagine. Avery had been clucking over Carson, insisting that he relax while she took care of anything he wanted.

Ned didn't think a word existed for the way he felt, although he had been through this before. The winding-down after he'd been held captive was exhausting. He felt both exhilarated and soul-crushingly tired. He was happy to be free, but he felt overwhelmed, his equilibrium shot.

His head ached as he followed Nancy up to her room, once the excitement had faded into an almost dull contentment. His brisk shower and quick shave made him feel marginally more human, and Nancy had cajoled him into taking some pain reliever, but it hadn't kicked in yet. If anything, this felt like the dreamlike stupor after the big meal during the holidays, when it was time to sleep, to recharge. Tomorrow he would call his workplace, come up with some explanation, ease back into real life, somehow.

It felt so fucking _right_ , to be in Nancy's father's house, to see his parents there, and there had been no questions, no comments, nothing to indicate the time between, the time they had spent apart. Everyone had just accepted that Ned and Carson had been kidnapped to get to Nancy. Everyone had just accepted that Nancy couldn't bear to be far from her father or Ned, now that they were safe. God, seeing his mother cry had broken Ned's heart.

Something tense and watchful in Ned had loosened over the past few hours. He didn't have to pretend anymore that he wasn't in love with Nancy.

Once the door closed, Nancy wrapped her arms tight around him, clinging to him. She had washed her face, and her injured shoulder was bandaged, but she looked completely exhausted, just as tired as Ned felt. He wrapped his arms around her and felt her warmth and sighed, and they were both shaking.

"Nan," he whispered. There was so, so much he wanted to say to her, so much, but all he could do was hold her. Now that they were finally alone...

"I was so afraid," she whispered. "I—I would have killed every single one of them if they had hurt you."

She pulled back to look into his eyes, and he didn't see the faintest glimmer of humor or amusement in her own. She was serious. Just as he would have been, if someone had seriously hurt her.

He took a few slow steps toward the bed, still holding her tight, gazing into her eyes. "You saved our lives," he whispered. "I was so afraid that they were going to hurt you."

She sniffled. Her eyes were gleaming. "I'm so tired," she whispered. "But I'm afraid that if I let you go, this will all be a dream..."

They kicked their shoes off, and once they were sitting on her bed, she stripped down to her underwear and moved beneath the covers. Ned did the same, slowly, breathing a sigh of relief as the pressure behind his eyes receded a little.

Then he moved into her arms and they nestled against each other, his palm against her bare back, her breath against his breastbone. As tired as he was, as secure as he felt right now, he couldn't stop himself.

"How long?" he whispered.

"Forever," she whispered. Then she smiled; he felt it against his bare chest. "As awful as today has been... this is the day our lives start, isn't it."

Ned closed his eyes, and for the first time since it had all began, with his wife safe in his arms again, he felt a tear slip from beneath his lids and slide cold against his cheek.

\--

When Nancy opened her eyes, her childhood bedroom was flooded with sunlight, and a mostly-naked man was in her bed, his arm draped over her waist.

She was out of CIA.

She'd have to go through an exit interview, talk to her boss about yesterday, but this was it. She was home now and she wasn't going back.

Nancy took a deep breath and breathed Ned in. He was safe and he was home with her and they didn't have to pretend anymore. She didn't know what had shifted or changed, but yesterday, no one had seemed at all surprised to see the two of them together as they had been. She hadn't questioned it then, because there had _been_ no question for her. She needed to be near both of them. She needed to see them safe with her own eyes. And she and Ned had spent the previous night in her bed. They hadn't risen yet, and they had clearly slept in the same room.

She should feel more upset about that. She couldn't bring herself to, though. Not when he was here and so close to her.

Her stomach growled quietly as she shifted, reaching up to cup his cheek. That bruise on his temple looked terrible, and his lip had been split. He had been afraid, held captive, for days.

Her throat ached, and she felt tears begin to gather in her eyes.

"Mmm. Hey," he breathed, his eyes fluttering open. "God, it wasn't a dream."

She smiled at him and shook her head, then sniffled. He brushed his injured lips against her palm, and she just gazed at him, her heart warm with love. "I'll be right back," she whispered.

Ned went to the bathroom just after Nancy did, and after a split second of hesitation, she climbed back into bed. She could smell coffee and bacon, and her stomach growled again, but she wanted to linger in Ned's arms a while longer. If she had her way, she would move into Ned's house tonight and not look back...

Ned came back to bed, and she snuggled against him with a happy sigh. To think, just a few days ago, the thought of this had been so sharp, so sweetly painful that she hadn't been able to imagine it. She stroked his back as his fingertips drifted across her shoulder blades, and his chest was so warm against her bare breasts.

The night before, she had been too tired and overwhelmed to even consider it, but when Ned nuzzled against her, she pressed a gentle kiss against his injured lip. His knee slid between hers and her heart sped up as she rolled onto her back, pulling him on top of her.

"Okay?"

"I think that's my line," he said softly, his lips curling up a little. "Do you...?"

She nodded, gazing up into his eyes. "I don't have any condoms here," she murmured. "You up to bareback again?"

In answer he began to tug her panties down. She giggled as he slid them down her legs, then stripped himself. When he moved between her parted legs again, she gazed up at him, then sipped in a quiet breath.

Her dreams the night before had all been nightmares, of getting there too late, of getting there only to find that they were gone, of never finding them at all. Feeling her heart break.

He was so warm against her, and with every stroke of his fingers, every brush of his skin against hers, against the sensitive flesh of her inner thighs, against the pebbled tips of her tender nipples, she shifted, arched, gasped in pleasure. She caressed him, stroked him, nuzzled against him, her knees up and spread for him, cradling his hips. He moved up over her and she felt the firmness of his erection pressed between her thighs as he kissed her.

Their kiss deepened, growing more and more intense as his cock rubbed against her clit, and the answering gush of arousal and desire warmed her cheeks. His thumb rubbed against her nipple and she drew her nails gently down his spine.

She whimpered when she felt the head of his cock brush against her, low between her legs, and he drew her into another sweet kiss. She ran her fingers gently over his bruised skin and through his hair, her other hand resting against his shoulder blades, tensing and then relaxing as he began to move inside her. She whimpered again, her lashes fluttering down, forcing herself to calm down so he could move more easily. She was slick, but she was so tight and he was so thick inside her.

"Mmm." He nuzzled against her cheek, his breath warm. "Baby..."

A pair of tears slipped down her cheeks, and he kissed one away. "Ned," she gasped, holding him inside her, instinctively clenching against him when he brushed against her clit.

"Yes," he whispered, and she was panting when he drew back and moved inside her again. She felt a tension building in her, all the tears, all the fear that she hadn't allowed herself to feel after she had received the ransom demand, all the fear she hadn't been able to express around their families. She clung to him, arching, shuddering as she took his every thrust. The sensation was both familiar and unbelievably intimate.

Maybe they were married, but their life together hadn't begun until today. She whimpered again and looked up at him with the shining eyes of a new bride, a woman who had very nearly lost all that kept her heart whole.

When she began to sob quietly, flexing and relaxing as they moved together, he lowered himself to her and quieted her with kisses. Then it was too much, and her hips began to thrust against his, a low moan vibrating in her throat.

He moved in her until she was screaming silently, tensed and flexing, her eyes rolling back at the deepest point in each thrust. Her nails dug into his skin, and she trembled as she came, as he followed. That act, that perfect joining, never got old for her.

She couldn't move as he lowered himself to her, both of them panting, their skin damp with sweat. His lips brushed against her neck, and when his tongue flicked against her skin, she moaned and her inner flesh tightened against him.

"Mine," he whispered.

She swallowed against her dry throat. "Mine," she whispered against his uninjured cheek. "Forever."


	5. Chapter 5

_He's not going to kill me. Not in his own house. Not after all we went through._

Ned had spent the night in bed with his wife, _in his father-in-law's house._ No one in the house, other than Nancy, knew they were married. They'd had sex, and it had been impossible to be completely silent, so it was possible someone had overheard that. And then they had showered together, partially because Nancy no longer seemed to give a fuck about appearances, partially because it seemed like such a minor infraction compared to everything else.

Carson was going to kill him, though. Ned had accepted it. At least he would die happy.

Nancy laced her fingers between Ned's as they started down the stairs, glancing over at him. "Hungry?"

Ned chuckled despite his nervousness. "My stomach is pretty much ready to climb out and go find food without me," he told her. "Whatever Hannah's doing in the kitchen smells incredible."

She gave him a brief smile, her brow creased slightly. "At least you were able to eat last night..."

He gently squeezed her hand. "They didn't starve us or anything. The worst part was at the end, seriously. It's all right."

She gave him a little nod, but he knew she was still troubled. Of course she was. He had never seen her the way she had been yesterday.

And now everything had changed, again.

Carson, Avery, and Ned's parents were seated at the breakfast table, drinking coffee. Hannah was standing at the stove, and she grinned hugely when she saw Nancy and Ned. "To the dining room!" she announced. "I'm making pancakes. Nancy, want yours with chocolate chips?"

Nancy nodded and smiled, then glanced up at Ned.

"Ned?"

"That sounds great, too. Thanks, Hannah."

They moved into the formal dining room. Ned had been in the room several times; the first time he had come over to Nancy's house to meet her father, Hannah had served their meal here. But Ned was having trouble meeting their parents' eyes.

He had dreamed of this, of what today would be, for so long. He had never been happy to hide what they were to each other. He wouldn't have changed last night; he hadn't had the strength then, and even now, he wouldn't leave her side. But it felt—sordid. He felt like he was seventeen again, embarrassed that he had even entertained any lascivious thoughts about Carson Drew's baby daughter.

And Ned absolutely hated feeling that way. What was between them wasn't sordid, not at all.

He forced his chin up.

Carson Drew wasn't glaring daggers at him. He even smiled. "Nothing makes me appreciate my own bed like being kidnapped," he commented.

Ned felt a strange blurring of cognitive dissonance. Being around Nancy's father... it really was like he had stepped back six years, to the crisis that had nearly ended them. He had expected a slow pantomime, a reintroduction, dates and polite family dinners and playing out their courtship all over again.

"Were you able to get some rest, Ned?" Ned's mother asked.

Ned somehow managed to dismiss the heat threatening to rise in his face. His mother hadn't meant anything by it. "Yes, thanks. I—feel really disoriented. I don't even know what today is."

Nancy chuckled. "Tell me about it," she murmured, and then they were sitting down, and the time traveling was complete. Her six years in CIA was a long, strange dream.

Ned's parents had never spent much time around Avery, but they seemed to be at ease around each other. Ned supposed that Carson had explained his and Nancy's history to Nancy's stepmother.

He relaxed slightly. Carson _probably_ wasn't going to kill him.

\--

Nancy took a deep breath as she walked out onto the dark pavement, her purse hooked over her shoulder. She had dressed casually, in tailored slacks and a sky-blue sweater with a button-down underneath; with her reddish-gold hair up in a smooth ponytail, she looked like a young professional leaving after a very long day at work. With her left hand, she gently touched the ring she still wore under her shirt, against her skin.

She had been debriefed, and the operation she had walked away from had been passed to another team. There would be no other assignments. The paperwork would take a week, but for all intents and purposes, Nancy was out. The world was spread out before her, full of promise and possibility and—uncertainty.

Her work with CIA wouldn't appear on any résumé she could ever show to a possible employer in the private sector. Oh, there were code words she would use, and the experience she'd had would count in her favor, but...

She had known that CIA wouldn't be her lifetime career, that she wouldn't retire after thirty years in the field, but she felt strangely adrift. She hadn't expected that. She had expected only relief and a reunion.

Ned was back at his home. His parents had confirmed in person that he was all right, and he would be returning to work in the morning. His life was waiting for him, and she felt the disorientation of having just stepped off a carousel.

And no one cared, no one at all cared if she called him. She was most likely on no one's radar anymore.

She pulled out her cell phone, a phone that was in her own name for once, and tapped Ned's name in her list of contacts. He answered after two rings.

"Hello?"

"Hi handsome."

Ned chuckled. "You know, I can't remember the last time I heard your voice over the phone," he admitted. "All day long, I've been feeling like somehow the clock has been turned back, and it's six years ago..."

"I guess it is, in a way." She glanced both ways before striding into the crosswalk. "I... really wish I could come see you."

"Me too." Ned sighed. "Wait, why can't you?"

She laughed. "Because it's ten o'clock, and Dad's expecting me back at home. And you need to get some rest for tomorrow. And..."

"And what?"

Ned's voice was deep, and it vibrated straight down her spine. Nancy's lashes fluttered down. "You can't seriously want me over there. After everything..."

"Of course I do," he protested. "I want you in my arms."

She took a deep breath, trying to find the words for how much she wanted that too.

"It's all right," Ned said, before she could speak. "You need your rest too, and I'm sure your dad wants to see you... so, just, call me when you're in bed, maybe? That way we won't feel so far apart."

Nancy smiled, tears pricking in her eyes. "I love you," she murmured. "And you have no idea how much I want to be with you tonight. I mean it."

"It really is like six years ago," he murmured. "I love you too. I love you a thousand times. I'm wearing my ring right now and thanking my lucky stars that your father didn't dismember me this morning."

"Why would he..."

"We shared a bed, at his house. I mean, I know our parents all know that we're—together, but... they don't know _how_ together. I was just waiting for him to show me a gun and tell me to leave the state by sundown."

Nancy chuckled softly. "He wouldn't do that."

"You say that. —Is everything okay? With your work?"

"Yeah." She chuckled mirthlessly. "I mean, in that I no longer have a job and need to start looking for another one, everything's fine. I can start looking into an analyst position with the Agency, or something in the private sector..."

They talked until she was standing in front of her father's house, and oh, she could feel it now—the press of every mile between them. "I'm home," she told Ned apologetically. "But I'll call you when I'm in bed. Turn your ringer off when you want to go to sleep, okay? I don't want to wake you."

Ned snorted. "I'll talk to you soon, babe. Love you."

Nancy smiled. "Love you too."

She keyed into her childhood home and stepped inside, treading quietly. Hannah had left a lamp on in the entryway. The house was so still, and she took a breath, just letting herself see it. A photo of her father and stepmother had been added to the family photos on the mantel. All the Christmas decorations had been put away.

Upstairs, her bed was going to smell like Ned.

And it was familiar, that undeniable pull she felt, the near-desperation. Ned was so close to her, and if they didn't know she was out, if the people who had been responsible for kidnapping him before came after him again...

No. It was unimaginable.

She knew for a fact that everyone involved in the kidnapping plot had been taken into custody, all four of their hostages released. She was still afraid, though. It would take a while for it to fade. It would take a while for her to remember how it was to live at this speed again. Although a part of her felt like she had closed a door behind her, had shed a skin and revealed someone younger, someone less complicated—and she had no desire to look back, not now.

She left her purse in the living room and walked quietly to the kitchen. Dinner had been quick, unsatisfactory fast food, and a long time ago. Nancy found the double chocolate cake Hannah had made for Ned's triumphant return, and served herself a generous slice.

"Mmm. I shouldn't, but could you cut me a small slice?"

Nancy grinned, finding another saucer. "I guess," she teased her father, who had entered the kitchen almost noiselessly and stood beside her in his robe and slippers.

They sat down at the breakfast bar with their cake and tall glasses of cold milk, and Nancy sighed.

"How did it go?"

"Long, but everything came out okay." Nancy took a small bite of cake and groaned softly in pleasure.

"That's good. I'm glad."

She took another bite, picking up some icing with the edge of her fork. "Are you doing okay? I'm so sorry you had to go through that..."

Nancy's father touched her hand. "I... well, I'm glad to be home. And I'm even more glad that they didn't succeed at whatever they were trying to do. It could have been much worse."

"I would have lost my mind... I practically did," she told him. "As soon as I knew, I was on the next flight back. Last night all my dreams were nightmares about getting back too late." Nancy sniffled. "I'm so sorry that my being in the Agency put you in danger."

Carson shrugged one shoulder, forking up his last bite of cake. "What put us in danger was our kidnappers' choices," he said. "You know that I'd never blame you for what happened."

She finished off her slice of cake, then pushed the plate away and rested her elbows on the table. God, she wished Ned was upstairs waiting for her, that she could fall asleep in his arms and feel his warm skin under her fingertips.

"I quit the Agency."

Her father made a soft sound. "Because of this?"

She shook her head and smoothed her hair away from her cheeks. "Because it was time," she said. "I missed being here. Being with the people I care about."

"Including Ned?"

She met her father's eyes, then nodded. "I've missed him too."

He dropped his voice. "Why didn't you tell me that you were still with him?"

Nancy took the elastic out of her hair and ran her fingers through it. "It was easier to not tell anyone," she admitted. "There was no having to keep track of who knew and who didn't, if no one else did. I just wanted to protect him. I thought it was working." Her lips curved up in a humorless smile. "Until a few days ago, anyway. Now it just feels so pointless. We tried to be so careful, but they found him anyway. And they took you." She shook her head.

"And him. He told me that you two had stayed together, and anyone who had seen the two of you together... they would have known."

Nancy smiled faintly again. "I needed to stay away from him," she whispered. "But... I guess it didn't really matter, did it. We could have been a couple." She sniffled. "It just felt unfair to him. Every time I came back, I was always—afraid he'd be with someone else..."

Her father wrapped his arm around her. "For him, I think, it's been serious."

She smiled. She didn't want to tell him about their private marriage; she didn't intend on telling anyone else. "He told me that he bought his house for me, for us," she murmured, without thinking about it.

"Well, that definitely sounds serious." He looked into her face. "And now you have time to get to know each other again. You can stay here while you find a job and figure out what you want to do, and you can date him."

She knew her father was just looking out for her, but her stomach sank to the floor. Dating her husband, getting to know him again? She knew him. And staying here with her father and stepmother felt like taking too big a step back, now that it was real, not just something they were idly discussing.

"I'm not saying forever," her father said, and his lips were curved up slightly when she looked into his face. He could read her; he always had been able to do that. "But there's something artificial about only seeing each other during these kinds of visits. Yeah, maybe I'm being a little greedy. I do want my daughter back for a while. I don't want to have one eye on the clock, trying to make the most of what little time we have."

"Oh, Dad." She hugged him. "I've hated it too. I've hated feeling like a tourist here. I wouldn't trade the last six years for anything... I just would have changed the past week. And I would have... well, I would have really seriously considered being with Ned officially, instead of pretending we were broken up."

Her father kissed her forehead. "It is pretty incredible," he admitted. "To have a long-distance relationship for six years..."

"It wasn't even that," she admitted. "We had to be very careful about messages, about contacting each other at all, about everything. If I thought about him... most of the time I just couldn't. I had to be someone else while I was an agent. And this, who I am, was in a box, walled off, and it's weird to be her again. To feel six years younger..."

"So use this time to figure yourself out too. Let yourself have an actual break, for once. Maybe we can take a little trip, go see your aunt for a few days."

Nancy smiled. "Yeah," she agreed. She hadn't seen her aunt very much since she had become an agent.

"Uh, Dad? While we're... it's okay if I spend the weekends at Ned's place? If he wants that?"

"That's not quite what I meant by date." He chuckled. "But you don't need my permission. If that's what you want, to make up for some lost time... I would never stand in your way." He reached for her plate and stacked it on top of his. "Just save some time for me?"

"Of course." She gave him a hard, brief hug. "I love you, Dad."

"I love you too, sweetheart. I'm glad you're home. And I've never been more proud of you."

Nancy prepared for bed, listening to the house settle around her, thinking ahead and finding none of the structure or the stress that had been part of her life for the past six years. Just taking a break and relaxing, reading a book or two for pleasure, getting caught up with Bess and George in a way she hadn't been able to do in years... maybe they all felt the same way, jealous for more time, more attention, more—everything.

And Ned, most of all. A wife he couldn't yet acknowledge, a life she needed to rebuild... when they had imagined it, it had been so simple.

Feeling such turmoil meant a small part of her hoped he was already asleep, but she grinned when he picked up on the second ring. "Are you in bed?"

"Yeah. Had a talk with Dad. He made some good points."

"As he generally does." Ned made a soft sound, and she heard the bedsprings creak as he shifted. "Anything particularly good?"

"That we should date," she said. "That I should take some time to figure out who I am before—well, I guess before jumping into anything. He knows we've been in a relationship this whole time... just not the commitment we made to each other. I don't _want_ to go backward. I feel like we've already—that _I've_ already wasted so much time, being away from you for so long." She took a breath, then let it out as a sigh. "What do you think?"

Ned took a moment. "I think that maybe we were both seeing it the same way," he said. "Planning some chance meeting, going on a few dates, keeping up the lie... and now I feel kind of lost. We never planned on the way this went down. It's okay to not know how to handle it. But dating sounds great. Being able to take you _out_ , to the movies, to a restaurant, bowling. Hanging out with my friends, taking you to parties. Having you be an actual part of my life instead of this—well, instead of you almost being like my mistress, or something. Because I hated acting almost like I was ashamed of being seen with you. I know that wasn't it, but... it was so close to that. I wanted to show you off. I wanted people to see how lucky I am, how proud I am to be with you."

Nancy smiled, her heart warmed. "And I'm proud to be with you too," she told him. "So, this weekend... would you like to go on a date?"

"I would love to go on a date with you."

"For... the whole weekend?"

Ned laughed. "That sounds great. Come over Friday night and... oh, I don't know what we'll do first..."

"I think _I_ do," Nancy said with a smile.

"Well, honey, as much as I absolutely love having sex with you... I really, _really_ think we need to go dancing."

"Without pretending that we're pining for each other the whole time."

"Yeah." Ned sighed. "I'm really beginning to think that maybe the only people we were fooling were ourselves."

Nancy flushed. "I'm sorry," she whispered.

"No, Nan—I... you were trying to keep me safe. It's not like you would have been home more often, if our relationship had been public. And in all fairness, I think that with us being single, everyone who knows us just thought that we hadn't gotten over each other. And they were right."

"I would never have been over you."

"Just like I would never have been over you." Ned made a faint noise, and she figured out he was trying to stifle a yawn.

"So, Friday. Think you can last that long?"

"I'll try. I can't promise anything. Let me know if you're in the city and want to grab lunch or something?"

"I will." Nancy realized she was already half-planning to make sure of it. "I love you, Ned."

"Love you too. I wish you were here."

"Me too." She stifled her own yawn. "Good night."

"Good night, beautiful."

\--

"Mom..."

Edith Nickerson beamed at her son. "I've been saving this up for _years_ now," she said. "Years."

"Surely not that specific lasagna."

Edith chuckled, her eyes sparkling. "No, I made this earlier. Had you _ever_ cleaned that bathroom floor?"

Ned ran his fingers through his hair. "When I moved in," he said.

"Mmm." His mother walked into the main room, glancing around. She made a minute adjustment to a throw pillow, then nodded. "I saw a table last week that would be _perfect_ right next to your front door. N—you could keep a dish for keys, a basket for gloves and scarves, that kind of thing on it."

Ned just smiled. When she was in this mood, he wasn't going to be able to talk her out of anything. "Thank you for helping me out. The place looks great."

It really did. Despite Ned's best intentions, although he had known that he needed to tidy up, he had been so insanely busy trying to catch up at work that when he came home every night, it was all he could do to make it to his bed before he passed out. Of course some people at his workplace knew that he had been involved with Nancy, that he'd been through a lot while helping her on cases. Still, explaining that he had been kidnapped and held captive by some enemies of the state just sounded completely, ridiculously insane.

It did feel like a crazy dream, though. Nothing felt the same anymore, because he was able to speak to Nancy on the phone, and she was nearby, and she was planning to stay that way. She had mentioned a trip to see her aunt in New York, but that was all it was. Her life in Illinois would be the rule now, instead of the exception.

And they would be together.

He couldn't believe he had fucking _butterflies_ at the thought of seeing her. And his mother was obviously excited that Nancy was coming over to visit. He had mentioned it in an offhand comment, and his mother had immediately offered to come over and help get the house ready for her.

A part of their secret relationship meant that he couldn't exactly tell his mother that Nancy had spent some of her Christmas visit here with him. But Edith clearly saw the house the way Ned did: a home that he and Nancy would share, hopefully sooner rather than later.

"Ned..."

Ned blinked, focusing again. His heart was beating harder at the prospect of Nancy living here, just as it had when they had discussed it. Now, it just seemed so painfully _possible_. "Hmm?"

"Nancy came here to see you over Christmas, didn't she."

Ned's eyes widened. Every kid probably thought his mom could tell what he was thinking, but he was supposed to grow out of it. Or maybe she was just supposed to be less obvious about it. "Uh..."

His mother smiled slightly. "Why didn't you tell us?"

He took a deep breath, then sat down on the perfectly arranged couch. "Because... she was afraid that our being together, in public—being in an actual relationship, that people would find out and—and what happened, would happen. I'd be hurt or threatened to get to her. She was concerned about me; that was all."

Edith sank gracefully onto the recliner near him. "And you couldn't tell _us_?"

Ned felt himself blushing slightly. "We didn't tell anyone," he admitted. "Nancy's father—her parents didn't know either. It was easier. No one could slip if no one else knew."

"But she saw you when she came home? Every time?"

Ned nodded. "She always found at least some time to come see me. And at first we... we were really careful, to make sure no one had followed either of us. I guess we must have slipped."

"But you could never really go out. You had to stay here, stay home. You couldn't go out on dates..."

Ned nodded. "And that's why tonight... it'll be wonderful to actually go out with her. To show her off. It's hard to believe she's really home."

His mother smiled. "It's like another start," she said. "And I'm sure she's overwhelmed by everything. It sounds like the last six years have been intense for her. You'll give her time, won't you? To just relax and figure out... I guess, what her place is." She reached over and patted his knee. "I have no doubt at all that she'll end up here, in your arms, where she belongs."

Ned silenced his immediate reply; apparently that mother-son telepathy wasn't so strong that she knew just how involved he and Nancy were.

But their marriage hadn't been _real_ , he supposed. In a legal sense, it wasn't; their lives weren't joined in any meaningful way. She was his lover, a fact that their parents knew now but were too polite to discuss. She was the love of his life, and always had been. But the need for secrecy was over, and with it... their sporadic, hidden relationship was too.

They did need to relearn how to be together. The butterflies in his stomach were proof of that.

"I'll give her time," he said. As much time as she needed... he just hoped that their rapport, their bond, returned easily. He could remember that shyness, the tentative way they acted around each other until it came back. They just hadn't had long enough for it to really sink in, and in a way, he thought maybe they hadn't wanted it to sink in. At Christmas, they had been able to spend so long together that saying goodbye to her had completely broken his heart. He just couldn't walk away from her easily.

For him, the transition had begun when she had whispered to him in the dark that the rest of their lives were starting, the night she and her team had recovered Ned and Carson from their kidnappers. He had begun dismantling that protective shell he had kept around his feelings for her, around the person he was with her, to save his own heart.

After his mother wished him luck and told him that she expected Ned to bring Nancy over for a meal sometime very soon, Ned kissed her goodbye and headed upstairs. The comforter was turned back invitingly. The bathroom floor and sink had clearly been scrubbed. And his mother had seen what they had planned for anyone else to see: no evidence at all that Nancy lived here, visited here, belonged here.

Five minutes before Nancy was supposed to arrive, Ned hurried down the stairs. He and Nancy had planned to go out, so he had decided on a pair of gray slacks and a navy polo. He was freshly shaved, teeth brushed, hair combed. As soon as his mother had left, he had put on his wedding band. He looked down at it, gripped it, turned it around the base of his finger, but couldn't make himself take it off.

He heard a car door slam outside, and raced to the front door to peer out, in case it was her. He was entirely unable to calm down. Tonight they were restarting, and he wanted to make sure everything was perfect, that he did everything he could to start them off on the right foot.

Nancy was walking up to his front door. She was tugging down the hem of her dress, which was a smoky dark blue, with some kind of tie at the top. Her coat was hanging open, and her hair fell in gorgeous loose waves.

Ned opened the door before she could knock, and they grinned at each other. "Hey—come in," he said, breathless, stepping aside and gesturing. She walked in with a little nod, ducking her head, an overnight bag slung over her shoulder, and he closed the door behind her.

A light floral scent, one she hadn't worn around him before, trailed after her. She wore diamond earrings and stockings; she probably would have been cold without the latter. She put her bag down on the couch and turned to face him, and Ned's heart stopped for a moment.

She was so beautiful, so very beautiful. They didn't need to rush tonight. They didn't need to hide.

Nancy smoothed her dress in a nervous gesture, smiling at him. "Hey," she said, her eyes so bright. "I—do I look okay? I wasn't sure..."

"You look gorgeous. Perfect."

"You look so good too," she said, taking a step toward him. "Mmm... I've missed you so much."

How many times had they said those exact words to each other? He didn't even know. "Thinking about tonight is all that's kept me going for the past few days," he told her. "I'm so glad you're here."

She smiled, then looked down. "Oh..."

Ned closed the distance between them, and slid the bracelet he had given her for Christmas onto her slender wrist. She reached for his hand, looking down at his wedding band, then up into his eyes. She wasn't wearing hers.

He gave her a small smile. "I thought about taking it off, but I just couldn't," he murmured. "I'm sorry. Is it making you uncomfortable? I..."

She shook her head. "I want us to wear them when we're alone," she said. "I just thought we were going out, and the cab driver, and..." She put on a brilliant smile. "I love to see you wearing it."

He reached up and traced his fingertips down the side of her neck, then back up to her earlobe. She shivered, her lashes drifting down, her smile fading. Then she made a quiet noise and opened her eyes again.

"I need to give you space," he murmured. "I know..."

She shook her head, reaching up for him, and before he had quite processed it, they were on the couch and his knee was between her legs and her tongue was sliding against his.

\--

"Dad gave me the same talk," she murmured, raising her martini, the chilled glass clouded. "To find out who I am before I just rush into this."

"Did you tell him about..." Ned gestured between them, suddenly shy about putting it in words, especially with his ring back on the necklace he wore. To anyone else, they were a dating couple, clearly in love, but nothing more.

God. She had stripped naked in his, their, living room, rapidly pushing off her pantyhose. He had glanced up to see her hard-tipped nipples and flushed skin as he went down on her, as she sobbed and fondled her own breasts, her other hand buried in his hair, her knees draped over his shoulders. Then he had ended up sitting on the couch, watching her ride him, his palms stroking her sides, her quivering breasts. His thumb had found her still-sensitive clit and she had thrust urgently, gasping, sobbing his name.

He had promised her a week in a hotel room. A week wasn't long enough. The rest of their lives weren't long enough.

Nancy shook her head as Ned picked up his own drink. "He already seemed hurt that I hadn't told him we were seeing each other."

"Yeah." Ned took a long sip of his bourbon rocks. "I mean, we knew that. We knew they would be."

Nancy nodded. "I did think about what he said, and next Saturday night, I'm going out with Bess and George—but I'll come see you before and after. I'd invite you out with us, but I know they want to catch up..."

Ned nodded, although he felt a sudden intense jealousy. He and Nancy already had to spend the weeks apart... but they were her best friends, and he knew that. "I'm sure they've missed you too."

"Yeah." She took another sip of her drink. "I meant what I said, too. I don't want to go backwards."

Ned half-smiled. "Pretty sure having sex on the couch isn't going backward."

She blushed and giggled. "Yeah, _that_ is definitely not going to stop. And, speaking of Christmas gifts..." She brought her wrist up, displaying the bracelet. "I think there's something else I need to model for you tonight..."

"Hell yes there is." Ned downed the rest of his drink rapidly. "And if you mention it again, I'm gonna throw you over my shoulder and flag down the nearest cab."

She laughed, her eyes sparkling. "Dancing first."

"Dancing first," he agreed. His dinner had been delicious, the drinks had put a warm hum in his head—though he was already high just from being in her proximity.

_Give her time to figure herself out._

Ned had meant it when he agreed, but once they were at the club, when she moved out onto the dance floor, her hand in his—something in her shifted. She had eyes only for him, and the way she moved—

It was a good thing that she was wearing pantyhose. He would have gotten them arrested otherwise, and he wouldn't have cared.

Ned had always enjoyed dancing, but he was very familiar with the way Nancy had danced before. Even at the winter dance, they had been chaste, restrained. Part of it had been the country club, their parents, their need to maintain the cover of being polite exes who still shared a certain chemistry.

The way she danced at the club made him wonder how many men she had seduced this way, and then he simply didn't care. She rubbed her hands all over his chest, his shoulders, his arms, his back. She peered at him through her lashes, brought her body close to his in silent promise, and the sight of her parted lips made him think of her riding him.

He caged her wrist when she tried to pull away from him, her hips moving to the beat. He pulled her close, tight, gazing into her eyes as her hips just barely brushed against his, as she undoubtedly felt his erection—oh, yes, she did, the way her lashes fluttered down, the liquid shudder that went down her spine. Much of her back was bare, thanks to the design of her dress, and her flesh was so warm against his fingertips.

He wanted to dance with her in a way that would have constituted public indecency. He wanted to pull her into a dark corner and pin her against the wall, hiking her skirt up and grinding against her until she begged him to fuck her.

Instead, he kissed her, glancing brushes against her cheekbones, against her neck, his hands always in contact with her. The feel of her breath against his cheek made Ned shudder. The bass pounded through them both and the anonymity of the crowd around them made him reckless. It was like they were struggling on the edge of something, some revelation, some realization.

They had spoken some vows to each other. That was all. Only their faith in it made it anything like real.

She moaned his name and then kissed him, hard, and Ned's arm tightened around her. They didn't come up for air until the song ended and the beat changed, and Nancy looked dazed when Ned pulled back.

"I need you inside me," she gasped, and Ned shuddered before he kissed her again.

\--

Nancy was naked. Unselfconsciously, gloriously naked, and utterly spent, sprawled on top of the comforter on Ned's bed. Ned's cheek was against her breast and his leg was tangled between hers and her thighs were slick. If her birth control failed and she conceived Ned's child, well, so be it. They had been so excruciatingly careful about condoms before because finding she was pregnant while on a long-term CIA assignment would have meant a series of unimaginable decisions, that slip at Christmas notwithstanding.

Her throat was aching. She needed some water. Oh, oh _God_ , he had found the right rhythm and angle and he'd been rubbing her clit and she had come screaming his name, her spine stiff, her fists clenched as she thrust her hips to meet his. She could barely blink. If she stopped gently stroking her fingers through his dark hair, she would fall asleep. The exertion felt incredibly satisfying.

"Mmm." Ned gently nuzzled against her, moving slowly. His tongue circled her nipple and Nancy moaned, a pulse of arousal clenching her womb. He stroked her hip as he suckled against her breast, and she drew one knee up, panting.

His fingertips brushed against a strip of raised scarring, and he made a soft inquisitive sound, moving back. His saliva cooled on her nipple as he looked at the scar he had found.

"What's this?"

When Nancy thought back, when she tried to negotiate the strange business of inhabiting old skin, she found it easy to let her memory of her time in the agency fade. Oh, some of it she couldn't help imagining over and over, what she had pushed down and set aside and not yet dealt with. But it felt like it had happened to someone else, now. And it needed to stay that way.

Ned wasn't legally her husband. The ring she was wearing was the tangible reminder of a promise she had made to him, but either of them could walk away. And now, she found herself afraid that he would never understand who she had been while they had been apart.

She hadn't been his wife. She hadn't even been Carson Drew's daughter. She had found it easier to pretend this was all a dream, because if she didn't, her homesickness and doubt and fear would paralyze her. She had become a woman with nothing to lose—and she had done everything she could to protect the man she loved. But she had failed at that.

"A scar," she whispered. Arousal had sent warmth creeping up her chest to her neck, had made her aware again of how tender and empty she felt between her legs. "Ohhhh..."

She parted her legs and took his hand, guiding it between her legs so he could feel the slick heat there. Ned made a soft noise and shifted his weight, preparing her with a few teasing swipes before he began rubbing her clit and just working one finger inside her. Nancy tipped her head back, fondling the breast he had just been suckling.

"A scar from what," he whispered directly into her ear, as he worked the full length of his finger inside her and she clenched around it.

She whimpered when he kissed her earlobe. "I," she gasped as Ned moved on top of her. Oh God. He was in control, stroking her arousal to flame again, just as she needed him to. If they had sex again, it was likely that they wouldn't wake again until morning, and then maybe he would have forgotten...

Then he pulled his hand back, licking his fingertip thoughtfully, and Nancy's womb clenched at the sight. He wasn't fully aroused yet—and God, his endurance had been incredible—but he leaned over and pulled a toy out of the drawer in the bedside table, something with nubs to stimulate her clit, something that would vibrate, and Nancy released a soft whimper, the blush climbing her cheeks.

"Do you want it?"

His voice was a low growl. She nodded, her heart skipping a beat as she glanced from the toy to Ned's face.

He drew in a deep breath. "All of what I am and what I've been is here for you," he said. "I'll tell you anything. I don't want to make you uncomfortable, and I know you need time, but I want to know about what you've been through, too. Okay?"

Nancy's body relaxed, her hips slumping back to the bed, as her eyes filled with tears.

Ned frowned, his brows creased with sympathy. "Honey?"

She sniffled, reaching for his hand again. He shook his head slightly, but she did too, and cupped his hand over her hip, where the scar was.

"It's too soon," she whispered.

He traced it with his thumb, back and forth. "What is?"

She struggled to find the words. "I need to find who I am now," she said. "And that—it's not who I am."

He searched her eyes. "What are you afraid of," he whispered.

A pair of tears slipped down her cheeks. She didn't know what to say. She was too afraid to tell him the truth.

He held her gaze another moment, then looked down at her body. He found the pale raised skin, places that she could remember as tender bloody gashes that had only darkened to an angry purple as they healed. He traced over her gently, reverently, and she couldn't seem to stop crying. She sniffled and he reached for a tissue, handing it to her before he rubbed his palm gently over her abdomen.

"Maybe it's not who you are," he whispered, "but it's still written all over you. The woman who came to rescue me and her father a few days ago... I'd never seen you quite that way before. The anger and fear and determination on your face..."

Nancy had never _felt_ quite that way before. She had been in terrifying situations, but the stakes had never been so personal, not since she had been trained and gone into the field. She just gazed up at him, her heart beating harder as he cupped her side.

And oh, oh God, the nightmares. If she lost him, if either of them had been seriously hurt, she would have killed everyone who had been involved.

And she had told him so. But he was still here.

"Is that what you're afraid of?" He smiled at her, gently. "We're okay. Everything is okay."

It would be. She prayed that it would be.

"Hold me," she whispered. "Please."

He glanced over at the toy, but she shook her head. Not yet. So he settled down on his side, drawing her against him, and she buried her face against his chest. When his fingertips drifted down her spine, they lingered on another scar—from an injury that had cracked one of her ribs and left her in excruciating pain, that had come within an inch of paralyzing her. She squeezed her eyes tight shut and burrowed against him.

It had seemed so easy, when she hadn't known.

"I love you," he whispered, sliding his leg between hers, their bodies entwined. She rested her inner thigh against his hip, knowing they would have sex again tonight, knowing that was infinitely easier than everything else he wanted.

He wanted all of her. He had already given her all of him.

"I love you," she whispered against his skin.


	6. Chapter 6

That feeling, of perpetually losing her to forces outside his control, hadn't vanished the second Nancy had told Ned she was home _for good_. It crept back while Ned slept, convincing him that her return had just been a dream. It drove Ned to text her when they were apart, just to confirm that something hadn't changed and drawn her back into that previous life. It turned their dates into _maybe_ instead of _yes._ In those last few minutes before she had agreed to arrive, he was tortured by doubt and uncertainty, memories of other nights he had waited for hours, sometimes fruitlessly.

And then she was standing in front of him, a beautiful smile lighting her face, and that feeling didn't entirely go away, but at least it faded some, a little more with every moment they spent together. Ned had spent years dividing his life, dividing himself. Merging the two, his everyday and the sweet fantasy of his marriage, the actual and the dream... it was harder than he had imagined.

He woke to her in his arms and felt that momentary panic, that jolting awareness that there had to be a clock counting down, that he had to savor every second—and then he relaxed. She was _home_ , with him. She wasn't going to be heading back out on assignment. The only clock counting down was the rest of their lives.

They had spent the week apart, sending each other messages, talking on the phone, re-establishing the rhythms of their relationship. Ned had found himself reaching back to when he was nineteen and twenty, the way they had spoken to each other back then. It had been familiar and easy, the words already written for him, for who they had been.

And whenever he caught it, he consciously forced himself to stop. He didn't want to share just the surface of his life, hiding everything that might make her anxious or worried about him. He wanted to share all of it, even if that meant being vulnerable to her. Especially if he was.

The scars he had found etched into her smooth, beautiful skin were all stories, and she felt so emotional about them that she couldn't even talk to him about it. If they were both vulnerable, maybe that would help.

She was naked under the covers, and he shifted very gently against her, closing his eyes and just enjoying being close to her. Her chest pressed and relaxed against him with every drawn breath, and he could feel the distant throb of her heartbeat.

He whispered her name, drawing his hand down her back, fingertips and palm, tracing the line of her spine. She moaned softly, nestling against him. Her lips brushed his shoulder.

Nothing in the world felt more natural than this. She was where she belonged.

He stroked her, her hip, her side, her arm. His lips brushed against her cheekbone and he nuzzled against her neck. Slowly he felt her wake, and a quiet laugh hummed in her chest as she draped her arm over him, tracing his shoulder blades.

"Good morning," she whispered.

"Good morning," he murmured against her chest, brushing kisses just over her breasts. "This is _absolutely_ the best way to wake up."

She chuckled. "I think I definitely came out ahead," she told him, letting him roll her onto her back. He kissed each nipple before rasping his tongue against one, and she gasped. Then he latched on and began to suckle, and she released a long pleased moan, threading her fingers through his hair.

"Mmm. Can I beg you for a minute first?" she said, apology in her voice.

"While I love the sound of that..." He gave her other nipple a quick lick, then released her.

In her absence, Ned went to the other bathroom, and used the small bottle of mouthwash he kept there. It was Saturday morning and he was walking through his house naked in the early spring sunlight, and his wife would soon be in his bed again. Just the thought of it put a broad grin on his face.

She rejoined him a moment later, and her eyes were sparkling as her gaze met his. "Now where were we?"

"Open your legs and I'll show you," he replied, and slid his hand over her stomach, tracing his fingers over sensitive, ticklish skin. Her muscles tensed under his caress and she giggled, but obeyed, bending her knees.

He took his time, trailing kisses over her, from her breasts to her belly button, down her inner thighs to her knees, then back up. Nancy began panting when he breathed on the slick inner flesh that was exposed between her open legs.

"Mmm. So beautiful," he murmured. "Oh, love, you're perfect. I love you so much."

"I love you too." She reached down and toyed with his hair, stroking through it with her fingertips.

"You love _this,_ " he replied, gently teasing.

"Of course," she replied immediately, but then she reached down and tipped his chin up a little, so she could look into his eyes. "And I love the man who loves giving me so much pleasure. It feels so good when you lick my clit and make me come..."

He grinned. "As you wish," he murmured.

Her back arched and she screamed at the intensity of it, as he licked and caressed her, bringing her to the height of an orgasm that left her thrashing and sobbing, bucking and gasping. She moaned when he kissed her clit again after giving her a moment to recover, and then he caressed and nuzzled his way back over her body, kissing and gently caressing her scars. This time he didn't comment on them.

He looked into her face, saw that she was flushed, but her eyes were bright as she returned his gaze. "You're so good," she whispered. "So incredibly good."

He gave her a brief grin. "And you..."

She smiled. "I haven't paid enough attention to you," she murmured.

He kissed the corner of her mouth, then settled between her legs, moaning softly at the feel of her slick and hot against him. "Believe me, beautiful... this is _definitely_ enough attention."

She wrapped herself around him, combing her fingers through his hair. "Come inside me," she whispered against his ear. "Please, baby."

He could tell that she was oversensitized, the slick warmth of her inner flesh swelled with the rush of blood from her orgasm, so he took his time. He kept himself in contact with her, though, as he rubbed against her, savoring the feel of her against his erection. She moaned and stroked him, grasping him every now and then, as though to urge him inside her. When he kissed her, she eagerly stroked her tongue against his. He could _definitely_ get used to this, the way she responded to him with no hesitation, without holding back. He could remember how she would be overwhelmed by the intensity of their joining before, how he would take it so slow and sweet, worshipping her and loving her until she was begging for him.

He still loved that. But this... she was so comfortable with him, and in spite of everything else, it made Ned feel like they truly were married now.

She tensed, gasping when he adjusted himself and began to slide inside her. "Yes," she moaned. "Mmmmmmm..."

He grasped her hips and rolled over with her, and she chuckled in appreciation, then began to ride him, slowly at first. He kept his gaze on her face, watching her expression of low-lidded concentration as her slick, tender flesh sheathed and released him.

"Yes," Ned groaned softly. "Oh baby, so good. You feel so good."

She opened her eyes and grinned at him, her hips still rising and falling against his as she rode him. "I love this," she told him. "I love the look on your face when I do this."

He reached up and gently tugged on a loose lock of her hair. "It's just pure adoration and desire," he told her. "And you are fucking _perfect_ around me. I love you bareback, babe."

"I know you do." She turned her head to kiss his palm when he cupped her cheek. "You want it faster, sweetheart?"

He nodded. "Yes. Please."

She moaned when one of his hands cupped her breast, his thumb rubbing back and forth against her hardened nipple. "Mmm. So good," she mumbled, and guided his other hand down between her legs so he could fondle her clit. After only a few swipes, she was practically slamming against him, panting harshly, and his hips were thrusting up as he felt her begin to clench around him.

They both cried out as they reached orgasm, and then she collapsed against him, moaning, her skin damp with sweat. They were both panting, and he was still deep inside her. Ned's hand was still trapped between them, his index fingertip curled against the slick firm button of her clit.

"Fuck," she muttered.

Ned chuckled. "Yeah," he agreed.

\--

Nancy took a deep breath before she opened the front door. She hadn't expected to do this; she had second-guessed herself several times on the way over. But she hadn't turned away or changed her mind, so she supposed that meant something.

The shooting range allowed her to rent a gun; she just had to buy ammunition. She was quiet and watchful during the entire process. Around her, couples and young men, mostly white, were joking and laughing. A few she recognized as being like herself, former operatives feeding some part of themselves. 

It was a part of Nancy that she wasn't comfortable with. She had walked away from that life, and the last act of it, rescuing her father and Ned... she didn't like to think about it. She had just wanted to go back to who she was before, and everything that meant.

After the initial euphoria of being _home_ again, she had found herself looking over her shoulder, checking for people watching her, anything that appeared to be a coincidence and might not be. She enjoyed her time with Ned; she looked forward to it as she looked forward to little else. But she also felt fiercely protective of him. Going out in public with him made her feel hyper-vigilant.

She didn't like it, and she had spent two weeks struggling with those feelings, telling herself that she was safe now, home, with him. That part of being Ned's wife, now in name and eventually legally, meant being a civilian again. She could turn that part of her mind off, the skills that had been painstakingly developed over her training and the years of her operations.

She was stronger than this. She had proven it time and time again, that she could shut what she needed out and just keep the rest. So why was it so hard now?

As soon as the gun was in her hand, a perfect calm swept over her, and she felt a deep sense of peace. She could defend herself while armed, if she needed to, and protect the people she loved. Oh, she didn't fear a random mugger or anything like that. She feared the people who had come after Ned to threaten her, to hurt him, the people who might hate her for what she had done in her previous life.

And what would Ned do, if she came home with one of these, asked if she could hide it in the house he had bought for them? If she brought this tangible, dangerous piece of her past home with her? Would he be horrified? Because she thought he would, and it hurt so much. He would be able to see the difference between the woman he had known and the person she had become.

It hurt so much when he lingered over her scars, even if it was just his gaze and his fingertips, even when he didn't say anything, didn't ask. It hurt so much.

She secured the weapon almost unconsciously, her movements smooth and independent of any real thought. She had picked a model she knew from training, and familiar ammunition too, and she checked her surroundings often, cleaning the muffling headphones she had been issued with almost grim precision.

She hated who she had become.

Didn't she? Because she had to. She had to be loyal and faithful to who she had been, because if she didn't... then maybe he wouldn't love her anymore.

_He could have refused to marry me. Could have moved on while I was gone._

_He would have, if he knew._

Nancy sniffled, tightening her mouth to keep it from trembling. It didn't have to be this way. All of it had happened to someone else, someone Ned didn't know, someone Ned _couldn't_ know.

She had never, not in her most panicked imaginings, thought it would ever be this way to come back home.

Nancy loaded the gun and inspected it, checked her surroundings, settled into the familiar stance. A small part of her, a tenth of her, was cringing, apologetic, despising her weakness. The rest of her was grateful for the discipline and control of it. When she was like this, she took who and what she was, and shoved it into a box so she could ignore it. It wasn't gone; it was just... later. Her sadness, her feelings of loss, her guilt, her anger and confusion, didn't have to be dealt with. Not like this.

Her love. Her monstrous, aching love, the burden that had filled her.

The burden that had always been hers. It had tied her to the earth when she had been afraid that nothing else would or could.

She drew a deep breath and focused on the target, and pulled the world in to just her own body and that flimsy set of expanding black rings printed on the paper. Her gaze found the X marking the heart, and she pulled the trigger over and over.

Her grouping was tight, so tight that it carved out a single hole exactly where she had wanted it to be. She lowered the gun and studied the target dispassionately.

She had hated guns, before. She had used them when she needed to, but she had been far more likely to use a starter pistol or some other prop, rather than a hot, loaded weapon. They had been part of the job, though, and so she had learned them as best she could. Her life depended on using guns well. The lives of her teammates depended on her using them well.

And she felt guilty, now, for missing any part of that life at all. Missing it meant betraying Ned, who had sacrificed so much and had made a home for her. As soon as she had walked in, she had known it was time, for so many things. Time for her to come home, to make their relationship something more than what it had become: glorified trysts during private, cozy weekends. A secret made shameful by their treatment of it.

Back then, she had felt guilty about limiting their relationship to what felt like a corner of her life. Now, acknowledging what had _been_ her life for the past few years felt like the betrayal.

Efficiently she stripped the target off and mounted a new one, then positioned it against the wall. A faint trembling reached her through the soles of her sneakers, momentarily breaking the spell she was under, and she glanced around the room. She saw grim, set faces and proper stances; she saw guys little more than boys, holding handguns sideways, practiced sneers on their sunburned faces. She saw men using the pretense of teaching women how to shoot to get closer to them, bodies nestling, nervous chuckles, flushed cheeks.

The thought of Ned seeing her like this was inexplicably mortifying. He had seen her _naked_ , for God's sake. He had seen her in so many levels of vulnerability. But he also saw her as she had been, at eighteen, certain that justice and right would generally prevail, that she was a force for good, that she was ruler of her own destiny. Now...

Now, it was hard to know exactly who she was. She knew only who she wanted to be, and it was up to her to find a way there.

She centered herself again, this time using double-taps on the target, rapid shots in quick succession. Eventually these skills would be rusty, and her aim would be less true—but the thought of that frightened her. She needed to be able to protect the people she loved, just in case.

She went through the box of ammunition she had purchased, renting two additional guns before she was finished. She hated that she needed this, but she wasn't going to do it in half-measures, walk away feeling less than satisfied about what she had done. She wanted to be thorough about it. As soon as she had turned in all the equipment and was walking out, though, she felt the fine trembling begin, in her fingertips, up into her palms, even a fine vibration in her spine.

At her exit interview, she remembered dismissing the idea of reintegration counseling. She hadn't been in _that long_. She had taken breaks, trips home, and she had always remembered who she was. Becoming that person again wouldn't be hard; what would have been harder was going back.

Now, she found, she wasn't so sure.

\--

"Nan!" Bess shrieked as she wrapped Nancy in a huge hug. Bess always gave incredible hugs. She threw herself into them; she didn't hold anything back. She looked great, too. Her raspberry-pink dress draped and clung perfectly, and the skirt swirled around her knees. "Girl, I have been waiting _years_ for this. I can't believe you're back for real!"

Nancy smiled. "I've missed you too, sweetie. Both of you."

George wrapped her in a hug too, and Nancy closed her eyes. George wore a sequined tank top that her cousin had clearly encouraged her to buy, and a pair of flattering jeans. "I promise we'll do that sleepover next weekend, all right?" George said, her brow creased slightly in apology. "The whole nine yards, pajamas and staying in with some ridiculous movie and popcorn and all of it."

Nancy nodded and smiled. "I can't wait," she said sincerely. "All right, dinner first?"

Bess nodded eagerly. "There is this _fantastic_ new tex-mex place. I swear to God, the best nachos I've ever had."

"And this girl knows her nachos," George chuckled.

"Oooh, we should do that at the sleepover!" Bess declared, opening the cab door and gesturing for them to join her. They were planning on getting drunk at some point, and no one wanted to be designated driver. "I _love_ oven nachos! And we can do brownies too."

"Or a chocolate chip skillet cookie," Nancy suggested. "Remember, with the caramel and the ice cream?"

Bess released an almost orgasmic groan, and George rolled her eyes. "That would be _perfect!_ "

The nachos were indeed incredible, Nancy had to admit. The margaritas they ordered as soon as they sat down didn't hurt, either. Bess was eager to talk about Nancy's birthday party, since they hadn't been able to celebrate it together in years. Bess also had a very specific itinerary in mind for the night, and it involved a lot of drinking and a lot of dancing to some great, upbeat music. They were three single ladies out on the town after too much time apart, ready to have a memorable time.

"So have you figured out what you're gonna do yet? As a job, I mean?" Bess tucked a loose wing of pale blonde hair behind one ear, reaching for her cosmopolitan. "I'm sure everything sounds super boring now in comparison. We have a few openings at my work right now, but..."

Nancy smiled, although there was little humor in it. It was hard for anyone to know exactly what she was qualified to do now, least of all Nancy. "Uh, I have some options," she said, nodding her thanks when George pushed the communal basket of tortilla chips her way. "Consulting would be a good one. Or something in law enforcement. I'd definitely have the connections I'd need for that."

"And is that what you want to do?" George asked. She was spacing out her own drinking, and was sipping an unadulterated diet soda. "Something similar to what you did?"

Nancy paused, then nodded. "I... I know this is awful, but... I feel kind of lost," she admitted. She wouldn't have been so honest, but the margaritas were definitely hitting her, and being around Bess and George without continually reminding herself that she would be leaving soon.

"Oh, honey, I get it." Bess reached for her hand and patted it. "Doing something new is scary and at least that would be familiar. I'm just glad you're _here_ , honestly. We've missed you so much."

Nancy's eyes gleamed with tears. "I've missed you both too," she admitted, reaching for them. "And I'm just so glad to be home."

\--

"Hey baby!"

Ned chuckled, a little startled. Nancy was clearly well past the point of inebriation. "Hey sweetheart," he said. "What's going on?"

"I just wanted to hear your voice." Nancy dissolved into delighted giggling. "What are you doing? Are you home?"

"Mmm-hmm." Knowing that Nancy would be out, Ned had gone out with a few of his own friends. After dinner they had settled in for a poker game, and Ned had played a few hands before ducking out. He wasn't sure why, but he felt too restless to stay. Maybe it was just old habit. Before, if Nancy had been visiting, he had wanted to be as available as he could to see her if she could get away. He had drifted off on the couch, in front of the television, with ESPN quietly droning and his cell phone resting on his chest. "Having a good time?"

" _Yes._ " She sounded very serious. "Yes. Baby, I love you, okay? No matter what."

Ned's stomach clenched. Given their history, he didn't like the sound of that. "And I love you too. Look, are you all right? Everything going okay?"

"Mmm-hmm. I just..." She dropped her voice to a stage whisper. "I want you to hold me."

Ned smiled. "You say that like it's a secret."

"Yeah, but... our sleepover is gonna be next weekend, and I... can I come see you?"

Ned stifled his laughter. She was begging for something he would happily have begged _her_ for. "Yes, baby, I would love to see you. Do you want me to come get you?"

She covered the phone, ineffectually, and he heard at least some of her murmured conversation. "We're gonna split a cab," she said. "I'll see you soon, okay?"

"All right. Be careful, okay?"

She snorted inelegantly. "I am _always_ careful," she said in a haughty tone, and then dissolved into giggling again.

Once she had hung up, Ned splashed cold water on his face and changed into his pajamas, tidied up the couch, tossed the snack wrappers he had left on the coffee table into the trash can. He had a feeling Bess and George might not want to come inside, but it had been a while, and he was looking forward to spending time with them again. Once they were no longer jealous about having time with her to themselves, anyway.

He heard the cab door slam outside, and looked out to see Nancy laughing as she climbed out of the cab. Bess and George supported her between them, walking her to the front door, which Ned opened in anticipation.

Bess was just as drunk as Nancy was, and laughing just as often, over what seemed to be nothing at all. George was a little drunk too, but apparently she had dubbed herself the responsible one for the night.

"You take care of her, okay?" George told him sternly. "She had a _lot_ to drink."

"I can see that," Ned said, and when Nancy slumped against him, he looped his arm around her to hold her. "I will. Thanks for getting her here. Did you have fun?"

George nodded, then rolled her eyes in Bess's direction. "We'll see her again next weekend."

Nancy was kissing Ned's neck before he even had time to wave a farewell and close the door. "Hey," he murmured, shifting his arms around her. "Hey, babe. I missed you too."

He could taste—oh, he wasn't even sure what everything was, but he could tell most of it was alcohol. And she seemed too drunk to really understand what was going on. He kissed her again, gently, holding her.

"I missed you. All the time," she mumbled, her blue eyes low-lashed.

He gazed at her curiously for a moment. "I missed you," he murmured. "Let me take you upstairs and get you comfortable, all right?"

She nodded, and when she stopped on the third step, contemplating something silently, Ned swept her into his arms and she laughed. She slid her arm around his neck and clung to him.

"I love you."

"I love you too."

He helped her out of her dress, helped her take off her makeup. When she made a quiet distressed noise, he held her hair and patted her back until she had recovered. She moaned softly, but let him walk her to the bed, a cold, wet washcloth in her hand to drape over her eyes. He drew her a glass of cold water and had her swallow two painkillers, when she felt up to it.

She moaned softly when he slid into bed next to her. "Feeling sick again, hon?"

"Mmm. No," she mumbled. "A little," she amended belatedly. Then she slowly rolled onto her side. "Hold me," she whispered, her voice soft and pitiful.

"Here," he murmured, and held her gently. She rested her head against his shoulder and made a soft, contented sound.

"Seriously, Nan. Are you all right?"

She sniffled. "I'm sorry," she whispered. "I'm trying so hard. I'm trying to be her. Please don't stop loving me."

Ned wanted to pull back, to look into her eyes, but he just felt his heart crack a little instead. "I won't stop loving you," he whispered. "Who are you trying to be?"

"Who I was," she whispered. "Before."

He kissed her cheek. "I love you forever," he whispered. "Who you were and who you are and everything between. You don't have to try with me, okay? Nothing will make me stop loving you."

"Do you mean it?" she whispered.

"With all my heart," he told her. "I have you. You're home, Nan."

"Home," she whispered, so softly he could barely hear it, and then she was asleep.

**Author's Note:**

> This story chapter was originally published elsewhere. If you enjoyed it, please consider leaving feedback! I appreciate it.


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